Penndragonne
by Tashasaphi
Summary: Sixth Year has arrived in a rush of blood and loss and Hogwarts. Harry finds himself feeling alone within a crowd, but with the help of a reluctant and strange new companion, can he find peace of mind once more? Dark but light and cute as buttons.
1. Chapter 1

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own the word Penndragonne. Coz I Spell it funny. So ner

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…_

_WARNINGS: This chapter, nothing, but eventual HP/DM, LM/oc/oc, D/s, Tort, Questionable consent, OCs, Oocness… bglar. Everything, really. _

A/N

Hello After an issue involving certain rules not being obeyed, Penndragonne is back. I have written up to chapter 16 so far, and will be uploading steadily but as quickly as I can.

Lets get this party restarted.

* * *

It was third week of October and the summer heat had finally dissipated, leaving the delicious, crisp chill of autumn in the air and the rich reds and golds and bronzes of a dying summer in the Hogwarts grounds. In the common room it was deliciously warm, with stoked up fires and more and more students wrapped in cardigans and jumpers as the days went by. Harry too had fallen into this trend, cladding himself with his newest weasley jumper, faded jeans and his beaten up Chudley Cannons T shirt Ron had gotten him as part of his birthday present this year. He had only had it for three months, but already it was faded. The little orange seekers that played an endless one on one game on the front were now a bland bleached terracotta, and the word 'SEEKER' that was emblazoned on the back looked a bit sad. Even the little golden snitches that darted around all over the place were a bit worse for wear. This was all because he had been wearing the t-shirt pretty much non stop since he got it. It was the only light coloured item of clothing he had, and he had spent the entire summer heatwave outside, mowing lawns, sweeping drives, and keeping as much as possible out of Dursley territory. The pay was measly, but the work overall had paid for all his Hogwarts needs this year, plus several treats for himself. Generally he didn't watch his money too carefully, since he had such a heap of it lurking in his vault at Gringotts, but he'd been reading through some pamphlets on the Auror course he was thinking of taking when he finished school, and nothing looked cheap. On top of that, this year he had extra courses he was interested in outside of class to make sure he would be the best qualified candidate for the job. He hadn't been able to visit Hermione or Ron this year because Ron was in Romania with Charlie, learning about Dragon Care. He hadn't divulged why he wanted to do this, but he was out of the country, anyway. Hermione had finally taken Victor up on his offer for a visit, and spent the first three weeks of the holidays in Bulgaria, and the next three weeks visiting family. It didn't particularly bother Harry. They all spoke by post almost daily, and it meant they had a lot more to talk about. Hedwig had been good company during that time… Harry's thoughts drew to a sharp stop and he inhaled sharply. A blast of prickly cold air hit him in the face and whistled across the common room.

'God damnit, Harry!' Seamus snapped from his arm chair, wrapped up in a blanket, looking thoroughly wretched. He'd picked up a pepper-up potion resistant strain of the common cold and was suffering terribly.

'Sorry!' Harry called back, quickly shutting and fastening to old thick glassed window. 'Just like the fresh air, is all.' Seamus grumbled something vulgar and snuggled into his blankets, making him look like a giant slug. The warm, almost stuffy air of the room got to Harry immediately. He sighed, getting up, and wandered out of the common room. Even the corridor was better than this. How could anyone bear it?

Hermione had a big decision on her hands. She had bought Harry this most wonderful book from Bulgaria on rare and legendary magical creatures for his birthday. She had spent days in Victor's library trying to find a translator Spell, which she cast on it for him. She had carted it back to England and given it to him the first day back at school. She had been so proud of her find, and Harry had loved it. She'd seen him flicking through it everyday, and doodling some creatures from it's pages onto paper whenever he got the chance. Harry, like her, had been raised as a normal person, and she had guessed him just right. He, like her, had an undying fascination with magical animals. Hermione had felt really good after giving it to him, seeing so immersed in reading it. He deserved it. However, just after the summer holidays had ended Voldemort had attacked the castle. The filthy bastard had openly tortured students trying to get to Harry. Even some of the Slytherins had suffered. Harry had felt awful about it, but they'd managed to drive Voldemort back, and he was laying dormant like a world war two shell, waiting for the chance to blow some unsuspecting property developer's face off. There were more plus points to the whole affair. The other death-eater related attacks had pretty much stopped. Hermione guessed this was because no self respecting human being, even a death eater, was going to crawl on their belly after a man who hurt many of their or their friends children for the sake of one boy. Pansy Parkinson was still in St mungos, suffering from burns. Malfoy was still having counselling, she'd heard. That was the one person she thought Voldemort never would have touched. However, she'd seen him, raised up in the air by the dark lord wand, struck again and again with cruciatus and various other terrible curses until the dark lord had ordered him to cut his own wrists. Hermione got the feeling that Malfoy hadn't even required imperius to do it. It had been a terrible day. Thankfully no one actually died. However, 40 students were injured, five of which were still in St Mungos, and three of which were now in specialist centres after going off their rockers. Malfoy was the only one who had required counselling, but everyone had noticed, though not commented on his diminished behaviour, slight jerkiness, drastic loss of weight and sickly pallour. He was still an undeniably good looking character, but he was a sad reminder of how low Voldemort had gone that day. Hermione sighed, flicking between the pages of her catologue. Part of Gryffindor Tower had been blown away by a curse, and pretty much the entire common room had been burnt out. That meant that the beautiful goatskin bound book she had hauled home was gone, along with a beautiful white owl who had been delivering Hermione a letter to that room at the time. Hermione felt awful. Hedwig's body had been found, pretty much intact, with the tattered, burnt letter still tied around her leg. Harry had coped pretty well, and they'd buried her in a grave out in the grounds, guarded with Spells to stop her from getting dug up by foxes or whatnot. Hermione had been thinking what to get Harry to replace the book ever since the incident. She didn't want to get him another owl- that would have been callous, and there wasn't another book like that one she could get easily, although she was writing to Viktor and he was looking for a new one for her. Now she was stuck. She had picked up a Wizards and Witches Gifts catalogue from Hogsmeade last week, but there wasn't anything really striking in here. She was now down to a choice between a beautiful quill- 'Made with real silver ornamentation and a genuine Griffon Feather!' and a folder that reminded him one daily if he had homework that was due the next day and if he had completed it or not. Harry was pretty good about doing his homework at the moment, since he wanted good grades in his exams, so the folder would probably have been a little useless, and he already had plenty of quills, but Hermione was stumped for anything else. He had cologne, he hated jewellery and getting him anything like what he had lost just seemed cruel. Hermione groaned. Why did boys have to be so complicated? Muttering, Hermione pulled on a jacket she'd got made for her in Bulgaria (a friendly gift from Viktor) and wandered down through the common room and out into the corridors. She had noted on her way through that Harry wasn't there- he was probably out for a walk again, and Ron was visiting Ginny in hospital today. Hermione shook her head a little and trudged on. Friday evenings were always a bit dull for her (she had heard that the Slytherins all snuck out to Hogsmeade for wild parties on Friday nights… though she wasn't jealous, of course…) but tonight seemed to be pretty bad. Frustrated by her lack of gift for Harry, and without her two best friends for company, she felt isolated. She wandered to a balcony that over looked the entrance hall and listened to the voices floating up.

'…I don't care what's going on, I'm here to collect him. You will go and fetch him immediately. He is already three minutes late!'

The slow drone of Vincent Crabbe wafted up. 'But I don't know where he is, sir. He hasn't been in the common room all evening-'

'Did I ask for you to speak?' came the unmistakably terse, snappy yipping of a Malfoy. 'Did I? No! Now, go and fetch Draco immediately, before I make you sorry you didn't move the first time!'

She heard the slap of Crabbe's feet running away, before Lucius Malfoy's glimmering silvered head came into view as he paced, dressed in black velvet, looking agitated. Of course, his features were somewhat blurry from here, but Hermione could sense his rage. The patter of feet below.

'He wasn't in the library, sir!' said the nasal squeak of Nuria Hamervich, one of Pansy's generally silent cronies. In her absence she had become rather vocal. Another shuddering stop of footsteps.

'I checked the kitchens, sir. Sometimes Draco goes there for a cup of cocoa. No sign of him.' That one was the regal tenor of Blaise Zabini. Hermione sat with him in Aincient Runes. He had the sexiest voice, and was pretty damn sexy all over really, but Hermione wasn't really attracted to him like that. He was a nice enough boy though, especially for a Slytherin. Lucius growled like an angered Jack Russell.

'Where else could he be?' He snarled. Blaise cleared his throat.

'I've sent Gregory to search the bathrooms. I saw Vincent on his way down to Common Room. I'll go and search the grounds by broomstick if you like. Nuria could go and search the quidditch locker rooms. He might have been practising and lost track of time.' Lucius snorted.

'I sincerely hope that is all this is,' he hissed 'because if it were anything more, and if you were helping him, I might have to get… annoyed.'

'I'll go and check those locker rooms,' Nuria hooted nervously, before her heels clicked away into nothingness. Blaise stayed a moment before going.

'If I may ask, sir,' he said softly, 'how is Lady Narcissa doing?' Lucius didn't reply for a while.

'She hasn't awoken yet, if that's what you are enquiring about, boy,' he said sharply. 'But she improves. Draco will come and visit her. She will improve further if we are both there.'

'I see. My best wishes to the lady, then,' Blaise turned away, his grey-brown hair glinting in the light of a candle. 'I will go and search the grounds. Good Evening, Mister Malfoy.'

'Good Evening, Blaise,' Lucius replied gently, before pacing again. Hermione turned away. Why was Draco hiding? It had been in the newspapers that there had been an unofficial, illegal raid on Malfoy manor by vigilantes. For one thing, it had turned up nothing. Secondly, the Malfoys had demanded to be compensated for damages etcetera, and had wheedled a ridiculous amount of money to prevent them from suing the Ministry for negligence, and thirdly Narcissa Malfoy had been struck by a curse and had fallen down a flight of stairs into one of the cellars. So, not only was she very ill from the curse, she had injuries and a concussion from the fall. Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for Draco, and all the Malfoys for just the briefest moment. But the moment was brief, and then she remembered what a pig the brat was, and what a foul beast his father was. Just as she was seething away, imagining throwing heavy objects at Lucius Malfoy and squishing him like a bug, there was a tiny, croaky sneeze and clunk of something hitting wood. She turned sharply, gasping. Behind her was a closet where Filch kept a stash of cleaning products. It was usually locked tight shut, but today it was open. The broken padlock was discarded on the floor. It was pitch black inside. There was a miserable sounding quack, followed by a tiny breathy cough and a few wheezing breaths. Hermione looked around quickly. The corridor was deserted. It was cold out here, and the common rooms were warm. Why would anyone be here! Swallowing hard, and summoning her Gryffindor courage, Hermione eased open the door. Slowly she peered in. On seeing nothing, she flung the door open, catching it before it slammed against the wall and made too much noise. Breathing through her nose, eyes wide in uncertain fear, Hermione studied the closet. It was more of a cupboard really, with just a few brooms, cloths, some boxes of soap and a couple of buckets. There certainly wasn't room for a person in there. Sighing a little with relief, Hermione gently pushed the door to.

'Must have been a rat or something,' she muttered. She walked further along the corridor, heading towards the library when a very loud clatter erupted behind her. She yelped and turned on her heel, heart racing. A suit of armour had been knocked to the ground, and parts of it had splayed everywhere, a piece of plating still rolling around, rattling unnervingly.

'How the-' Hermione began, but didn't feel the need to finish. The helmet fell onto it's side, extracting an airy squeak from something. That something clambered very awkwardly out from under the rubble and collapsed sideways down the pile onto the stone with the slapping sound of a fish hitting the chopping board. It lay there, panting and wheezing for a moment, before slowly, shakily, easing itself onto it's tiny feet with a delicate click of its claws.

'I don't believe it…' Hermione managed, eyes lighting up. The creature hacked, the violent coughs shaking it's tiny frame, before turned around. It's wheezing could be heard easily above the faint echo of the falling armour. Hermione rushed forward and picked the little thing up.

'A penndragonne…' she whispered, amazed. She had seen the creature in the book she had bought Harry. Hagrid had also mentioned that they would be studying the little creatures for their advanced care of magical creatures project this year. She raised it up as its head lolled at bit and studied it. The little head, about the size a thimble, was delicately pointed, and there was a trace of tiny needle sharp teeth under the top lip. This lead to the long, slender neck and a body about the size of a mango. Attached to the body were four little legs, arranged so it could run on all fours with little grasping claws on slender toes. The tail was about twice as long as the body or neck and tapered to a point, clad in a tiny arrowhead tip. All of this was was clad in ethereally beautiful almost glittery silvered skin as soft a velvet, with a pair of grey-white feathery wings poking out from it's back. The feathers on this were a little curved. This one was still a baby. Hermione couldn't help but break out in a grin, but this faded when the little dragon's head fell forward against it's chest and she noticed the ridiculously shallow breathing.

'Oh dear!' she cooed, raising it up again, before holding it close to her, where it rested it's head miserably on her shoulder. 'You must have breathed in some dust!' She cast a quick Charm to clear its throat and within seconds it perked up. Then it froze. It looked at her with clear silvery eyes.

'Hello there,' she whispered. It gave a long, hard look, dripping with ice, before whipping out its head and sinking it's teeth deep into her nose.

'Iiiyaaaahhh!' she screeched releasing her grip on the creature. It dropped hard to floor and landed with an awkward spring before staggering away, tripping over itself, before falling flat on it's face, wheezing miserably. Hermione clapped her hands over her nose, blinking back tears of pain.

'Ow,' she whimpered, before cautiously approaching the prone creature. It was unconscious now, still wheezing awfully. It's skin, which should have been a rich silvery tone was almost white. Meekly, Hermione bent down and collected up the tiny animal in her arms, hugging it close to her. It's head fell back, it's body limp as it struggled for breath. Hermione bit her lip. It may have been a mean little thing, but it was sick, and she had to help it. Hurrying, but being careful not to jar the fragile little animal, she made her way back to the common room and prayed that someone would have a medical magic Spell book handy.

'Fancy a game of chess?'

'No thanks, Neville,' Harry said lazily, leaning on one hand and pouring over his Magical First Aid Volume Two. It was the reading material for one of his bonus short courses to help him with this qualifications. What good was an Auror who couldn't deal with an attacking magical beast, or heal himself up after said encounter? Harry yawned. The hot air was making him tired, but the corridors were lonely and icy cold. Even his jumper didn't repel the cold. Even a warming Spell didn't repel the cold. The portrait door banged open and someone rushed in, but Harry was too absorbed in his complex disinfections Spells to look up.

'Limpia Totalis…' he muttered, examining the diagrams carefully.

'Harry!' someone called next to him.

'I'm busy,' he grumbled. 'Limpia Totalis…'

'What have you got there, Hermione?' Dean called over to her.

'Nothing important,' she called back nervously, 'it's for Harry.' She poked him. 'I need your help.' Harry lazily looked up, but immediately snapped to attention when he was what she was holding.

'What the hell?' he blurted, clawing it out of her hand and laying it on the table. The silvery chest was rising and falling in erratic, desperate breathing. Harry stared goggle eyed at it, before turning his piercing gaze up to Hermione.

'Is this what I think it is?' he said slowly. Hermione nodded bashfully.

'I… found him,' she mused. Harry turned his gaze back to the ill creature.

'What's wrong with him?' he asked gently. The dragon's eyelids fluttered, but it didn't really stir. Hermione shook her head.

'I don't know,' she sighed. 'I thought he'd breathed in some dust and was choking, but I cast a chest clearing Spell, and it hardly helped.' Harry furrowed his brow.

'Well,' he said firmly, 'we've got to do something. He's probably one of Hagrid's lot.' Hermione shook her head again.

'They're not being delivered until Monday, in time for Tuesday's lesson. Besides, he hasn't got a brand, look.' Hermione rolled him over gently to show that both sides of his pale hind quarters were unblemished. Harry frowned.

'So… you caught him then? As in he's yours?' Hermione smiled weakly.

'I was thinking that I'd give him to you,' she suggested. 'Crookshanks would probably eat him.' Harry smiled a little, still shell shocked by the discovery. Their thoughts were broken by the creature screwing up its eyes and choking.

'Not now,' Harry affirmed, before lifting the tiny creature up to study it. He felt tenderly along its throat for a blockage. It feebly tried to bite him several times, muttering as best it could between wheezes. Harry laid it back down.

'It's airway is clear…' he mused. By now at least five more people had gathered.

'What then hell is that thing?' Asked Dean. Colin raised his camera but Dennis pulled it back down.

'It's not well,' he chided. Colin gave in.

'It's so weird,' Lavender hissed to Pavarti. 'I've never seen anything like it.'

'Can you guys just back off?' Hermione hissed. 'We're trying to think.' Harry was currently trying not to get bitten as he looked down the tiny creature's throat. He released it and the jaws eased shut, before the creature spluttered through its nose. It inhaled hard with a strong wheeze. At that instant Harry snatched it up and pressed his ear to its chest.

'So simple…' he said with a relieved sort of smile He collected up his wand and pointed it at the penndragonne's chest. 'Asmas Relivis.' A pinkish light struck it from the wand tip and spread out in the shape of the creature's lungs. With every breath the dragon took, it's wheezing abated, and it's struggling ceased. Soon it was breathing silently and deeply, and it flopped on it's back, exhausted. The wand light disappeared. There was a short silence.

'What was wrong with it?' Pavarti asked cautiously. Harry picked it up, watching the silvery eyes flicker open as it came back to consciousness.

'It was having an asthma attack,' he said cheerfully. 'But he's fine now.' The creature's eyes came back into focus, stared at Harry for a few moments before narrowing hatefully. The neck lashed out and the teeth fastened onto his nose. Harry's eyes watered.

'See? He's feeling better already…'

* * *

I don't speak Latin. The Spells are loosely based around my knowledge of Spanish ;

Limpia: Limpiar- to clean

Asmas: Asma- Asthma

Relivis: Relevar- to relieve

See you soon


	2. Chapter 2

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own my very own Slytherin Tiepin. GO ME!

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…_

_WARNINGS: Nothing for this chapter_

A/N

I think I'll do my altered Spanish hack job Spell explanations now. Saves you going crosseyed at the weirdness.

Quema- burn (from Quemar- to burn)

Relivis- Relevar-to relieve

Limpia- Clean (from Limpiar- to clean)

Allio- Accio brings stuff to you, right? Well 'here' in Spanish is Aqui (akki), so I though a Spell that sent something somewhere specific should have been releated to there, which is Alli. And to make it sound more potter authentic, it became Allio. You may now throw balls of paper at me in dismay.

The other bits an bobs I stole from HP… which is property of Rowling-sama by the way I apologise to her personally for destroying a perfectly good set of charas because my own penndragonne decided to inspire it. Asshole.

Wheee! Yay for surrealness. Now read

* * *

'Here. This should help the swelling.'

'Thanks, Hermione,' Harry said gently as both he and Hermione applied the cold compresses to their noses. The Penndragonne was sitting on the coffee table in front of them, contained by a binding Spell. It was currently doing a very erratic mime act, and gibbering like an angry budgie. Harry groaned.

'They're not poisonous, are they?' he asked drowsily. Hermione sighed, smiling a little.

'Not as far as I know.' She paused, biting her lip. 'I'm sorry. I thought he'd be nicer. Most penndragonnes are really affectionate. It said so in the… book.' Harry frowned.

'Yeah. I read that bit. Act as muses and help artists get inspiration. Kind and friendly.' He looked at Hermione, smiling. 'I hate to say it, Herm, but I think he's broken.' Hermione smiled back.

'Well, a suit of armour did land on him. Maybe it's concussion.'

'I hope so,' Harry reached down and picked up his teacup, sipping gently. 'I'd at least like to be able to pet the thing before I let it go.'

'Let it go?' Hermione questioned. Harry furrowed his brow.

'What's so bad about that?' he asked, batting Dennis's hand away as he tried to poke the invisible box. Hermione flushed a little.

'I… wanted you to keep it. As a gift. He'll be able to help you, I'm sure.'

'By doing what, giving me a nose job every time I get close to it?' Harry joked.

Hermione stiffened and looked away. Harry frowned. 'Sorry. It's a great present. I… just didn't expect it, that's all.' The dragon scrabbled at the walls of it's prison, before giving Harry the 'finger'. Harry stuck his tongue out at it. 'Jeez, what is up with that thing!' Hermione softened and groaned.

'I really have no idea. We can ask Hagrid on Tuesday if he doesn't perk up, I suppose.' She tucked a little hair behind her ear and watched it prowl like a caged tiger. 'Look, he's getting his colour back.' She was right. The dragon was now less white and more pale silver. Harry looked up from his book drearily.

'Perhaps it's hungry… or tired.' He smirked. 'Maybe we have to treat it like those stupid dolls we were given in Sex Ed.' Hermione groaned.

'Don't remind me,' she whined, flopping back dramatically in her armchair. 'I don't think I slept for that entire week.' Harry chuckled.

'That's because you're a rubbish mother,' he sneered jokily. Hermione pulled a face at him, and he returned it, still laughing. Harry sighed, leaning back against the soft pillows of the sofa. The dragon was now ranting something terrible, it's voice chatterings and hoots and the occasional squeak. It's favourite noise seemed to be a sharp quack. Harry shook his head, smiling at it.

'You're such a moron,' he said gently. It screeched, scrabbling at the invisible wall, before jumping up and down, ranting like a deranged chipmunk. Hermione's eyes widened.

'Brings a whole new meaning to phrase "hopping mad", doesn't it?' she muttered. Harry snorted and immersed himself back in his book. A second year who had latched onto Dennis knelt beside him at the coffee table and reached forward as if the touch the beautifully miserable creature.

'Corben, don't do that,' Hermione chided, picking up her latest witch romance novel. 'It bites.' Corben sprung back as if he had been bitten.

'Sorry,' he muttered. 'it's just, I've never seen anything like it before…'

'Neither have I,' Dennis admitted. 'I kind of wish I had let Colin take that picture now… Dad would have been amazed!'

'I always thought Dragons were huge…' Corben mused. 'Is this one of Hagrid's crazy illegal breeding projects?' Harry groaned.

'Go and play some chess, you two!' he sighed, ' Quema Relivis…' Dennis frowned.

'Colin is using my chess set right now,' he said grouchily. Harry peered over the top of his book.

'Use Ron's,' he hissed. 'he won't mind.'

'Who says I won't!' Ron snapped, thwacking Harry over the head with a roll of parchment.

'Ron!' Hermione squealed, grinning. She got up and proceeded to throw her arms around him and embrace him tightly. He turned an interesting shade of beetroot.

'I didn't hear you come in!' she laughed. 'I didn't realise you'd be back this evening!'

'Err.. Yeah,' Ron struggled, before getting control of himself. Harry sniggered and Ron glared. 'I… Mum and Dad arranged a portkey to get me back with some of Ginny's things. The doctors say she should be fit and well for school again by November.'

'That's fantastic!' Hermione cried, releasing him. Ron sighed and Harry sniggered again. Ron waved the parchment threateningly. Harry wilted.

'Seriously, though,' Harry affirmed. 'It's great news about Ginny.' Ron smiled, moving to an armchair.

'Yeah, it is,' he said sleepily. Harry snatched the parchment and unrolled it a bit.

'What's this?' he asked, eyes scanning the page. Smooth-flowing, ridiculously neat, italics handwriting met his eyes.

'I found it on the floor on one of the corridors,' Ron mused, running a hand through his hair, 'It was near a puddle from one of the leaky windows on the third floor, so I thought I'd better rescue it. Turns out it's someone's homework.' Harry frowned.

'The uses of venomous tentacula and other poisonous plants in medicine?' Harry read aloud. 'This is part of someone's Advanced potions coursework!'

'Really?' Ron yawned. 'Lucky I found it then.' Harry noted that the penndragonne had gone silent. He secretly prayed that it was recovering.

'Lucky's not the word,' Harry breathed. 'If this had been mine, I think I might have hung myself, right here, right now. These sorts of essays take so long to do! I spent a whole weekend on the research alone for mine!' Hermione frowned.

'What kind of moron would carry that around with them?' she asked tersely. Harry shrugged, before unrolling the very top. He dropped the parchment as if he'd been burned, before snatching it back up before it rolled into the fire.

'M-malfoy's,' he said dryly, scanning the ornately scrawled name at the top. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

'Malfoy loves potions,' she mused. 'It's his best subject. Why would he risk damaging his coursework by carrying it around.' Ron shrugged.

'Maybe he's finally cracked. Hair gel can't hold a loony like that together forever, you know.'

'Ron be nice,' Hermione snapped and he whimpered. 'What happened to him was not his fault!' Ron shrugged.

'I say he was messed up before. I blame it on the crazy overbearing Muggle-phobic parents. I mean, he's sixteen for christs sake, and do you really think he picks his own clothes yet? They make him look like a paler shade of death!'

'Ron!' Hermione chided.

'I'm just saying!' Ron protested. Harry frowned.

'I never knew he had middle names,' he noted. Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

'He's a Malfoy, I wouldn't be surprised if he had twenty, just because he can.'

'Seven, actually,' Harry corrected, squinting at the handwriting. 'Draco T.M.L.N.J.A.A Malfoy.'

'Good lord,' Hermione hissed. 'I was only joking…' Ron was in stitches. Harry sighed, rolling up the parchment.

'Oh well,' he said lightly. 'We'll just give it back to him next time we see him, I suppose.' Ron coughed his laughter back under control.

'Give it back?' he spluttered, before shaking his head. 'Naaah, I say we burn it.'

'Ron, how can you even suggest that?' Hermione spat.

'Easy,' Ron mused, counting on his fingers. 'One, he's an arsehole, two, he's the moron that lost it and if it wasn't for me it would be ruined anyway by now, and three, the bonus answer, he bloody well deserves it!'

'Ron…' Hermione sighed. Ron folded his arms angrily. Dennis and Corben had long since pinched his chess set.

'I'm serious, Hermione. He spends all his waking hours trying to put me down. And you and Harry too, or did you forget that?'

'Actually,' Hermione noted firmly, 'he hasn't done or said anything uncivil to me since the incident.'

'Same here,' Harry agreed, once again immersed in his book. 'Quema relivis…' Ron growled.

'That's only because he's lost the plot! If it hadn't of happened, he's still be the raving prick he's always been. I say we burn it!'

'And I say I wouldn't burn it even if he was still his old self!' Hermione shot back. Lavender and Dean had Charmed in some popcorn and were watching the spat avidly.

'Burn it!' someone chanted weakly in the background. Hermione shot a glare across the room and people instantly turned away as if nothing were happening, only to surreptitiously turn back when she focused on Ron again.

'Ron,' she sighed, 'He must have worked so hard on this. He's been off school a lot recently, and as Harry said, this essay is a really hard one. Please Ron…'

'He probably had someone write it for him,' Ron scoffed. Hermione narrowed her eyes.

'We don't know that, and we are not burning it!'

'We are burning it!' Ron challenged. Hermione groaned.

'Harry, back me up on this!' she whined. Harry sighed and pointed his wand at the scroll.

'Allio Scroll,' he said effortlessly and scroll flew away up the stairs.

'Hey!' Ron cried, before growling. 'Where did you put it?' Harry smirked.

'Away in my locked trunk. Where no accidental fires can touch it until I deliver it to Malfoy.' Ron pouted.

'Harry, you've gone soft in your old age. Were this last year, you'd have cheered with me as Malfoy's work went up in flames.' Harry rolled his eyes.

'Quema Relivis,' he chanted, pointing his wand at Ron. Ice blue light struck him and Ron jumped backwards, his chair threatening to over turn.

'What the-' he spluttered. Harry sighed.

'Just checking I can heal any burns you may sustain in attempting to ignite my trunk in desperation later tonight,' he chirped. Ron glowered.

'Smartass,' he sneered.

'I know,' Harry shot back cheerfully. Ron sighed and leant back in his chair. Hermione got up and walked past him, ruffling his hair.

'Don't worry, Ron,' she said teasingly. 'We'll find something with the Malfoy insignia on it for you to burn next time…'

'Aww shut up you!' he snapped, grumbling about lack of support. Hermione giggled and lifted her coat off the rack by the portrait hole.

'Accio wash kit,' she called and caught the bag as it flew down the stairs. 'I'm going to take a shower. See you guys later!' Ron waved her off before slumping back into his chair. Harry turned back to his book sighing. He flipped the page and groaned.

'How to stop bleeding,' he mumbled unenthusiastically. 'Joy of joys…' Ron, meanwhile, had spotted something. He was transfixed. And it was staring right back at him.

'I don't believe it,' Ron whispered. 'I've never seen one of these before…'

'Hmm?' Harry asked, not looking up. Slowly, Ron got off his chair and down onto his knees.

'No one told me you'd got one!' he laughed. 'When? Where? How?'

'What are you on about?' Harry groaned, narrowing his eyes at a diagram. Ron reached out towards the shining creature, it silently watching him as he moved closer.

'It's incredible…' he whispered, eyes a little glazed. Harry sighed, looking over the top of his book, before jumping to attention.

'Ron, don't go near it, it-'

SLASH

'AAAAARRRGH!'

SNAP

'YAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRGGHHHH!'

'I'm sorry,' Harry muttered, magicking up another wonky looking cold compress. 'I should have warned you earlier.

'S'allright,' Ron muttered, taking it and placing it across the bridge of his nose. His hand was bandaged with special magic waterproof bandages up the wrist, and was bundled with ice packs. Blood was already peeping through the linen. On his face, Harry was still helping him dress the bites and scratches. When Ron had touched the invisible cage, he had broken the Spell, and the Penndragonne had broken loose. First, it had backed away, looking disgusted, and had slashed Ron across the knuckles with it's claws. When Ron's hand had jumped in pain, blood had flicked into the creature's face and it had gone bezerk. First it latched it's painfully sharp teeth into Ron's index finger, ripping and tearing by shaking it's head from side to side. In agony, Ron had reeled back, flinging his arm into the air. The dragon had released him and landed on the top of his head. It hadn't waited for him to recover. Snarling like a pittbull on helium, it had dived down his face, digging in it's miserable little claws, before snapping down hard on the bridge of his nose. Ron had shrieked and snatched the creature by the tail, forcing it to release his nose as it screamed. He had then made the error of holding in front of his face to yell at it. Mere seconds later he was sporting deep gashes across both cheeks, and the dragon had reattached itself to his nose, snarling and growling so much it was physically shaking. With a lot of gentle persuasion… as in grabbing the dragon by the jaw and using a finger to cover up it's nostrils, Harry had managed to force it to release it's iron grip. Of course, by this time, they had an audience of the entire common room, plus a few first years who had emerged from their dorms at the sound of Ron's screams of pain. As soon as it let go, it immediately turned on Harry, but he was prepared. He had quickly snatched it behind the head as you would a snake and wrapped his other hand around it's back. It yipped and snarled and thrashed, but being so tiny, there wasn't a lot it could do. It now lay prone on the coffee table, stupefied. Anyone would think were asleep, except it's eyes were twitching around, fixing people in it's pale gaze, as if deciding where next to strike.

'It's cute n'all,' Lavender commented. 'but it's so vicious!' Pavarti nodded.

'And those pale eyes really creep me out. Padma said Hagrid told her that they had bright, colourful eyes. This one looks too ghostly.' She shuddered. Harry frowned, casting Limpia Totalis on Ron's face. What Hagrid had apparently said corresponded with what the book had said before it had been destroyed. Harry looked down at his new creature with a frown. It caught his gaze, before narrowing it's eyes hatefully. Harry couldn't help but swallow. He knew what it was thinking.

'Jeez,' he whispered. 'It's like pure unadulterated evil!' Ron shot him a look.

'You think?' he hissed back, wincing as Harry applied the Spell to Ron's face again, just to make sure.

'Maybe you should go and see Madame Pomfrey…' Neville suggested, as Seamus grouchily wrenched Colin's camera away. Ron shook his head.

'Naah, s'allright,' he sighed. 'Harry needs to practise his blasted healing Spells, anyway.' Harry smirked.

'Thanks for the support,' he joked. Ron smiled, before wincing.

'That damn thing's gone and ruined my face!' he snapped angrily. Seamus snorted.

'Some girls find battle scars endearing, Weasley,' he sneered. 'more appealing than freckles anyway.'

'Says you!' Ron shot back, gesturing to the pale freckles across Seamus' cheeks. He grumbled something about medicine and slouched back across the common room, still bearing his cocoon of blankets. Harry flopped back against the sofa with a sigh.

'S'not pretty,' he said tiredly, 'but it'll do.'

'Wasn't pretty to start with!' Seamus called across the room.

'And neither's a chapped nose, but none of us are making comments!' Ron shot back. Seamus barked something incoherent and vanished under his blankets. Harry sighed.

'Poor Seamus,' he muttered. Ron gawped.

'Poor Seamus!' he exclaimed. 'What about me? I just got mauled by your crazy dragon-runt!' Harry frowned.

'He attacked me and Hermione earlier if it makes you feel any better,' he eased. Ron snorted.

'As if it would! Jeez, Harry, that things a menace! What are you going to do with it?' Harry shrugged.

'I suppose Hermione will come up with something. She usually does. Besides, it was her who gave it to me in the first place.'

'What I'm wondering about is how she caught the blasted thing without losing a limb, an eye and large quantity of hair,' Ron groaned. Harry smirked at Ron's joke.

'It was having an asthma attack.'

'I beg your pardon.' Harry raised an eyebrow.

'It was having an asthma attack. It could hardly move, let alone maul anyone.

Managed to bite her, though. It seems to have a thing for chewing on people's noses. I have no idea why…' Harry sighed as the creature twitched. The crowd backed off instantly. Ron was trying to suppress laughter. 'What's so funny?'

'An asthmatic Dragon, that's what,' he blurted. The penndragonne seethed on the table, shuddering with ill concealed rage. 'I mean, that's just plain ridiculous! He's gonna breathe a ball of flame, and then choke to death on the smoke!' He sighed. 'I love how evolution plays these mysterious jokes on us, really I do.'

'It's not funny, Ron,' Harry protested. 'He could have died if Hermione hadn't found him.'

'And what a loss to the world that would have been…' Ron drawled. Harry frowned and snatched up his book grouchily. Ron rolled his eyes. 'I can't believe you're so attached to it already!' he sneered. 'You've had it, what…'

'An hour or so.'

'An hour, and in that time it's bitten you, Hermione, and nearly clawed me, your best friend to death! That bloody dragon's a menace, and you know it.' Harry said nothing. Ron sighed.

'Well, don't expect me to help you feed it or anything,' he sneered, glaring at the dragon. It emitted a low growl and he jumped back impulsively. Harry smiled.

'No problem,' he said lightly, looking at the creature almost fondly. It may have been an arsehole, but Harry had an undying urge to turn it around. Still, he thought cheerfully, it could just have a headache, and want to be left alone.

'Jesus, Ron, what happened to your face?' Hermione exclaimed. Ron glowered.

'It-' he pointed accusingly at the penndragonne, who was trying to shake the pins and needles out of one of it's hind legs. 'Happened to my face. And my hands! Would you just look at my bloody hands!' The Penndragonne glared at him as if he were crap on the bottom of it's foot, before hobbling down the table. Hermione sighed.

'Yes Ron,' she groaned. 'They are indeed bloody.' Ron sulked.

'I can't believe you got him a murderous beast! I swear, Hermione, you're heading down a long road of psychiatrist's bills…' Hermione frowned and dropped her wash kit into his lap, extracting a pained 'oof!' She sat down on the sofa arm next to Harry, watching the Penndragonne scowl and burrow under the pillows sulkily.

'He's still not cheered up, then,' she said sadly. Harry smiled weakly.

'He fell off the table a minute ago- I think he got a bit of a fright.' Hermione put a friendly arm around Harry's shoulders.

'So you like him then?' she asked hopefully.

'Of course I do,' Harry laughed. 'I liked him when you first brought him in. He's… really, really cool…' Hermione laughed at Harry's floundering for a better expression.

'Well, I'm glad,' she said kindly. 'But I've got something else…'

'No more gifts!' Ron pleaded. Hermione kicked him. She pulled out of her pocket what looked like two moderately simple black friendship bracelets.

'For innovative magic we had to come up with something by Christmas and write a full report on it, including possible advertising techniques etcetra.' She explained.

'This is my project-'

''mione, it's October,' Ron groaned. 'Aren't you jumping the gun a bit… again?' Hermione frowned.

'There's no harm in being prepared, Ronald,' she growled, before turning back to Harry. 'I decided to develop a summoning device for things that can't be summoned, like animals for example.' She relaxed a little. 'I mean, it would nullify lost pets… up to a certain distance, and could keep them out of the way if something was going on…' she trailed off a little, before clearing her throat. 'What I mean to say is, it's a collar which restricts animal movement. You wear one bracelet, the subject wears the other, and you speak into the bracelet telling the subject's bracelet as to which radius of you the subject can move around in. For example-' he raised the larger bracelet to her lips. 'common room.' The world 'Common Room' appeared on the other bracelet, only half of the bracelet's width. Hermione placed them in Harry's hands. 'I thought you could use it on the Penndragonne… and do some final tests on it for me before I mass produce a few.' She smiled weakly. 'I had about five sets, but Crookshanks destroyed them all but these ones when he found out what they did.'

'Did they work?' Harry asked, looking at the bracelet's warily. Hermione nodded.

'Crookshanks just doesn't like being contained, is all. He's not a very good test subject- he's a bit too strong.' She smiled an embarrassed smile again. 'But it should be able to contain him just fine. Once it's round his neck, he can't do a thing to it. Only you'll be able to take it off.' Harry put the other bracelet around his wrist, and watched the other bracelet turn blank again. His bracelet now read 'HARRY'. He frowned, but started to remove pillows from the other end of the sofa. The penndragonne was laying down, it's head still under a pillow as it grumbled to itself. It's wings fluttered a bit, but it was practically still. Harry drew a little closer, and it lashed it's tail, but didn't remove it's head. Looking backwards for Hermione's support, he carefully eased the open bracelet around the dragon's neck. It emitted a light hum, before becoming a solid, seamless band.

There was pandemonium.

The Dragon leapt upwards, shrieking, scattering pillows. Ron squealed, as did Dennis and Corben, who were playing chess behind the sofa. It landed with a loud clunk in Lavender's bowl of popcorn, which was on her lap, scattering the fluffy snack. She wailed like a banshee and threw the bowl in the air, sprinting away. The dragon spiralled, screeching in midair, surrounded by falling popcorn. Out of instinct, Harry yelled 'COME BACK HERE!' Something yellow flashed across the neck collar and the Dragon rocketed back across the room, hitting Harry in the stomach like a football. Harry gasped as the air was knocked out of him. Slowly, he extracted the now half unconscious creature from his jumper and tried to lift it up. He failed.

'What the-?' he gasped. 'One metre!' His arms released and he nearly fell over forward. Hermione bit her lip.

'It's a tad strong…' she whispered. Ron was laughing again. Harry groaned. The collar writing changed from 'HERE' to 'ONE METRE' as if it were being stitched and unstitched.

'Jesus christ,' Harry hissed, massaging his stomach with one hand. Lavender was screaming abuse from behind Dean's arm chair. The Dragon slowly came to, rich, startlingly clear silvery eyes coming into focus, before stabbing it's claws into Harry's hand. He leapt back as he winced and released his grip, bounced off and invisible barrier and landed back in Harry's lap. It screeched in horror and clambered up to his shoulder, panting miserably. Hermione chuckled.

'Well, it seems to work,' she mused. Ron smirked.

'Now you can keep it away from me!' he jeered. 'I'm tired, I'm going to bed.'

'Ron!' Hermione called after him, but he vanished up the stairs. Harry shook his head as the Dragon hopped off his shoulder and walked, carefully, to the end of the perimeter, sat down, turned away, stuck it's nose in the air and sulked.

'I'd probably better turn in too,' he said gently. 'Dean's setting up a football match against the Hufflepuffs in the morning after breakfast. I'll need my sleep.' Hermione smiled.

'I'll stay up a little longer and do a write up on that brief, if not amusing test-' the dragon turned and hissed hatefully at her. It looked miserable. She frowned. 'God, I hope he cheers up soon…'

'Me too,' said Harry with a sigh. 'But thanks just the same, though.'

'You're welcome,' she smiled. Harry grinned, before quickly clutching the Dragon around the back and behind the head.

'Well, goodnight, 'mione.'

'Goodnight Harry.' And with that, Harry rushed across the common room, apologising to people on the way past as the dragon writhed in his grip, screaming what sounded like abuse, even in this dragon speech.

Harry pulled a pair of shoes out of their box. He'd bought new quidditch boots, because his others were getting a tad tight, but he still had the box. He pulled his top blanket off his bed and stuffed some of it into the box. The dragon, which he had localised around his far bed post, wasn't snarling anymore. In fact, it was deadly quiet. Harry frowned and gingerly picked it up. It yawned widely, but merely stiffened in his grip. It was too exhausted to contend with him further tonight. Ron was rummaging in his bedside cabinet.

'That thing better not attack me in my sleep,' he said grumpily.

'Ron, look at it,' Harry protested. 'It's knackered out. And besides,' he placed the dragon in the box. 'BOX. It can't.' Ron seemed to be somewhat pleased by this, and he pulled out a small vial of potion.

'What's that?' Harry asked. Ron sighed.

'It's dreamless sleep potion. My mum always packs me a miniature medikit every year, and I never use it. I'll never be able to get to sleep without it.' The Penndragonne suddenly jumped to attention and began jumping up and down, quacking and yipping, circling around it box as much as it could. Harry ignored it.

'I'll hold the bottle so it doesn't spill when you pass out,' he said gently, heaving himself off the bed and taking the bottle from Ron's hands. He tipped a little into his friend's mouth.

'Th-' Ron began, before flopping onto his pillows, fast asleep. Harry smiled, before fastening the bottle and putting it back inside the cabinet. The dragon shrieked and snarled and hopped even more. Harry turned around.

'What?' he groaned, before noting a particularly large spider crawling up the wall next to it. He smiled. 'You don't like spiders either?' he said gently. He caught the spider easily and cupped it in his hand. 'Neither does Ron. He'd go bezerk if he saw that.' Harry open the little window hear his bed and put the spider out on the windowsill. Closing the window, Harry sighed. The dragon was now whimpering.

'It's gone now,' Harry said, opening his hands. 'See?' The dragon yowled and hopped and snorted smoke before coughing wretchedly. Harry hurried over. 'Be careful!' he chided, before casting the asthma relief Spell, just in case. The dragon hiccoughed for a while, but it seemed to be better… although furious. Harry shook his head.

'Silencio,' he uttered quietly and suddenly the little dragon could make no noise. It blinked dumbly for a few moments, before silently wailing in misery.

'I'm sorry,' he said guiltily. 'But I've got to get some sleep. You should too. We'll have a big breakfast in the morning, OK?' The dragon simple glared at him. Harry blew out the lamp. 'Goodnight then.' But in the shaft of the moonlight, the little penndragonne's sinister liquid metal eyes glimmered on, glaring hatefully, almost tearfully at Harry. Harry slipped off his glasses and snuggled down into bed. He lay there for a while, captured by the mystical gaze, before realising he wouldn't sleep this way. He pulled the curtains and rolled over, and spent the nights dreams of flying on a giant silver dragon.

* * *

Thanks still go to Madeddie, my glorious beta. Wheee! See you next time! 


	3. Chapter 3

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter three

Disclaimer: I am the rightful owner of a Renault clio. However, that has nothing to do with anything ;;

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…_

_WARNINGS: None for this chapter. _

* * *

Sunlight tempted Harry away from his beautiful dreams as it streamed through the tiny fabric holes in his curtains, heating the air to a brilliant warmth in his little cocoon of darkness. In the background he could hear Dean getting up, and Seamus greeting him sleepily before crawling back into bed. Saturday mornings were always lazy in his dormitory. On certain Sundays, people were up and about far earlier due to Quidditch, but Quidditch was indefinitely postponed due to the ministry still conducting tests, gathering evidence and clues and generally cleaning up after the October incident. Harry rolled over, snuggling into his pillow. Hedwig had left a big hole for him. His post, which he had received like clockwork for years, stopped coming for about two weeks until other owls started filled in. It hadn't even crossed his mind to replace her. He really didn't know if he'd be able to. He pondered casually, however, whether or not the little penndragonne would be able to carry his mail, short distance at least. With a start he sat up, realising what he was thinking about, and couldn't help but smile. He drew back the curtains, smiling, expecting to see the little silver creature, curled up, innocent and beautiful in it's little box, perhaps purring a little in it's blissful sleep. Of course, that would have been too easy. In fact, there wasn't even a box there anymore.

'What the-' Harry spluttered, dropping off his bed to his knees and scrambling around under his bed in a faint hope that it had been 'dislodged'. no such luck. He sat up, cobwebs gracing his natural bed head, before turned to greet Seamus's amused gaze. Ron snored loudly behind his curtains.

'Silencio,' Seamus snapped, flicking his wand, eliciting not only the Spell, but several sparks. He frowned, sniffing.

'Have you seen my dragon?' Harry asked, a little breathless from the sudden exertion. Seamus shrugged.

'Not since I went to bed, no,' he drawled thickly, scrabbling for a tissue. Harry groaned and pressed his face to the floor, looking around the whole room for a trace of the little troublemaker. Seamus sighed, rolling over and shutting his curtains with his wand.

'I think I might just stay here all day…' he mused drowsily.

'You do that,' Harry muttered, getting to his feet, scratching his nape. He looked around the room for any trace, eyes falling on the wide open door.

'Seamus, did you go downstairs yet today?' he asked, remembering how he had left the door slightly ajar so as to let some air circulate. Seamus groaned.

'O'course not,' he growled before Harry heard the tell tale signs of him snuggling under copious amounts of feathery blankets.

'Dean?' he called into the bathroom which joined to the bedchamber. Dean shouted no through his toothbrush. Neville grumbled something about deadly nightshade in his sleep, rolling over. Ron's snores were beginning to break through the silencing Charm already. Harry cautiously walked out onto the stairs, cursing as the cold stone burnt at his naked feet. Something hit him and he hurried down the staircase. The penndragonne was confined to it's box. He was surprised it had managed to get to the door and get it open without help, but there was no way in hell it could have gotten UP the stairs without assistance. That only left…

'Penndragonne?' Harry called, voice a little crackly from his heavy sleep. As he turned the final curve in the stairs, he prayed that the images of the bloody, battered dragon corpse stuck in it's box wouldn't meet him when he reached the bottom. He was gratefully relieved by an empty stairwell. He could here mutterings from the common room, and a sudden squeal. He peered inside and spotted a group of first years gathered around the floor by the portrait hole. He frowned and stormed across the room. They parted like the red sea, except for a couple who were crouched down, giggling. They were trying to turn over a box, which kept jumping, shaking and emitting the distinct sounds of a hyperactive, helium infused pitbull. Harry groaned and flipped over the box. Pressed to the inside, yelping at the sudden movement, the familiar serpentine creature hissed and shivered, it's body near white. He opened it's bleary eyes, blinking slowly, before focussing on Harry. Yowling, it launched itself and sunk it's teeth deep into his finger. Harry did his best to ignore the pain as the dragon panted and huffed. He could see patches of light bruising on it it's beautiful hide, and it wasn't putting all it's weight on one hind foot. More than anything, it just seemed exhausted. It had probably taken most of the night to get here, so it wouldn't have had a chance to sleep.

'In my hands,' Harry said to the bracelet, before picking up the creature. It's clawed pinched feebly at him as it whirred away, teeth still clamped over his index finger. He stood up, clutching the creature close to his chest, where it feebly struggled, biting a little harder. The first years gazed up at him as if he had just fed the five thousand, and he turned and walked away, leaving the shoebox on the floor as a reminder, or perhaps because his hands were too full of clawing biting midget dragon to pick it up.

'You've got to give it points for guts,' Seamus pointed out. Dean and Neville nodded as Harry chased the limping dragon around his bed, wielding his wand as an aid.

'And for surviving,' Dean added. 'Look how fragile it is, and it still bounced. I have to admit, I'm impressed, little guy.' The Penndragonne stopped and rushed to the side of the bed closest to Dean, ranting like an over excited Macaw. Harry took the opportunity to fire off a healing Spell at it's hind leg. It leapt up, shrieking as if it had been shot, before landing and shooting a jet of fire into the bedding. Thankfully, they didn't ignite, but the stunned creature swallowed it's smoke again, and collapsed wheezing and twitching. Harry picked up the wriggling mass, cast a few pain relief Charms and quickly got onto to the 'Asma Relivis'. The dragon groaned and wormed it's way out of Harry's hands, trying to find a gap in the Charm on Harry's bed, before dejectedly flopping onto the covers, bawling like a sulky three year old. Within seconds, it's voice died, and it was asleep. Seamus leant up on his elbows from his bed.

'When you're out of it's firing range, it sure is amusing to watch,' he noted. Neville nodded, staring at the creature, bug eyed. Harry gingerly picked it up and laid it upon his pillow, where it unconsciously snuggled. Harry chuckled and relaxed on his bed, yawning a little.

'Breakfast?' he said drowsily. Dean shrugged.

'It's only ten…' he paused to yawn. 'We've got plenty of time yet.' Ron made a derisive grunting noise from behind his curtains.

'I really need to work on my silencing Charms,' Seamus muttered miserably. Harry smirked, getting up and wandering to the bathroom. Neville followed him surreptitiously.

'That thing's amazing, Harry!' He hissed as Harry loaded up his tooth brush.

'He's alright,' Harry replied, knowing deep down he was kidding himself. This thing was more awesome the new Firebolt gold edition there were promising by next year. Neville smiled.

'When he warms up to us a bit… could I… maybe hold him?' Harry raised an eyebrow, scrubbing at his teeth. Neville started to prepare his toothpaste. 'My grandmother has a painting of one of these at home. I thought… maybe… I'd get Colin Creevey to get a picture of me and it together, so she can see… maybe…' Harry smiled through his toothbrush and nodded. Neville beamed.

'Cheers Harry!' he cooed, before plunging the brush between his lips. Harry was about to clear his mouth of suds for the second time when an ear piercing scream filled the room, reverberated off the walls, and a vicious crack crept across the mirror. He ran back into the main dormitory, where Dean was writhing next to Harry's bed, trying to plug a bleeding ear with tissue, and Seamus had vanished under his covers, swearing in muffled yells.

'What happened!' Harry asked.

'What!' cried Dean, disorientated.

'What happened?' Harry repeated, and Dean squinted to lip read. He pointed to the Penndragonne and wound off into the bathroom, eliciting a gurgling cry from Neville. Harry looked down at the creature. It had awoken, obviously screaming, and was now trembling frightfully, eyes bugged, limp and miserable. Slowly, Harry picked it up, but it did not resist, eyes unseeing, wrapping it's tail around his wrist. Harry sat down on the bed and pulled the dragon up to his chest. It was whimpering now, and it locked it's claws into his pyjamas, pressing it's head to the hollow of his throat, whimpering meekly. Harry could feel the soft vibrations of it's muttering against his skin, and he frowned.

'Come on you,' he said reassuringly. 'Let's get some breakfast inside you and we'll see how you feel then.' Detaching said dragon from his clothes and nestling it on his pillows again, he quickly prepared some clothes for the day ahead, before collecting the still pliant creature up and hurried to an early breakfast.

'Two metres.'

Glare

'Alright then, four metres!'

Intensified glare.

Harry rolled his eyes. 'You're so demanding.' The Dragon's face softened to a self satisfied smirk. It had, grudgingly allowed Harry to heal all of it's injuries, and now felt no reason at all to be meek. They now sat, pretty much alone, in the great hall. Their only company was Luna Lovegood and the Grey Lady on the raven claw table, a few Hufflepuff first years chatting animatedly on their table and a sultry, sulking dark haired Slytherin girl on her respective table, reading her tarot cards. Harry was somewhat glad of this. The Penndragonne, despite it's poor attitude, seemed less tense when it was just the two of them. In the common room last night it had been so stiff and angry, and again this morning in the dormitory with Neville, Seamus and Dean. He couldn't help but smile at the tiny, self satisfied creature, head held high, neck arched regally.

'The table, then,' he said into his bracelet. The Dragon considered for a moment, a wisp of smoke trailing from it's nostrils in contemplation, before ambling off down the table with it's funny, waddling gait. Harry shook his head, grinning, before piling breakfast stuffs onto his plate. There was a clatter as a teacup fell over about four metres away. Harry looked up with a start, but the Penndragonne was soldiering away, pulling a saucer with it's forefeet, trying to walk backwards. Harry raised an eyebrow, and it glowered at him, before stopping next to a large platter of sausages. It rolled one off with it's forepaws, before scampering up the table for a hash brown. It ended up sprinting back on it's hind legs, holding to offending foodstuff in both paws and with it's mouth. Harry nearly choked on his bacon, but quelled his laughter with a long draft of pumpkin juice. The Dragon shot him a look of pure loathing, before retrieving a napkin and cleaning oil off itself. Harry shook his head and carried on eating. His thoughts drifted to the football match this afternoon, and to his lessons on Monday, and starting their advanced COMC project, before there was a stabbing pain in his forehead and he saw red and popping circles in his eyes. He didn't cry out, but he did slump forward in his chair, biting his lip until he drew blood, breathing fast and hard. As it always did, as it always had done, the pain subsided, but left some brief words in his head.

'_What do you mean, you don't know! Unacceptable!'_

Harry groaned quietly, easing himself back up to a sitting position. He took another forkful, chewing it thoughtfully, before casting a look down the table at his companion. The Penndragonne was staring at him, half way through moving a slice of melon to it's saucer, eyes wide, a look of pure, undeniable terror in it's silvery gaze. Harry sighed.

'I supposed you sensed that too,' he said gravely. 'Being an animal and all…' The dragon slowly blinked, it's eyes still wide and glassy. Harry ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. Other people had started dutifully flowing into the hall, though none had noticed the little lizard gawping at him.

'You can't stay all the way down there,' Harry chided. The dragon, snapping out of it's stupor, glowered at him before firmly seating itself and sucking the juice out of it's melon. Harry groaned.

'You'll get me in trouble,' he hissed. 'I don't think pets are supposed to come to breakfast.' And the word 'pet' the Penndragonne made a shrill, sharp tooting noise through it's nose before tearing flesh out of the melon slice, swallowing sulkily. Harry tried to ignore a few odd looks he got. Frowning, he raised the bracelet to his mouth. The Dragon froze, glaring hatefully.

'Don't make me use it,' he said, a threat in his tone. The dragon's eyes narrowed from the other side of it's saucer, and Harry heard the crunch of it sinking it's claws into the table. The meaning of it's glare was clear.

_I dare you._

'Fine,' Harry hissed. 'Half a metre.' There was a horrible ripping, cracking noise as the Dragon was dragged along the table, it's strong claws tearing through the surface of the wood. Everyone turned to look this time. Even the grouchy Slytherin looked up from her tarot cards gloomily. The Penndragonne kept an entirely stern expression, despite the fact it's eyes were watering from the pain in it's claws. Harry picked it up and plonked it unceremoniously on the other side of his dish. It froze in his grip, and cowered a little after he put it down, before he shoved it's saucer to it's feet and carried on with his breakfast, aware of the stares and ruined varnish on the ancient table. The Penndragonne didn't try and run off, but it fixed Harry with a curious gaze when it thought he wasn't looking, before ripping and tearing at it's melon.

'GOOOOAAAAAAAAAAALLL!' Cried Dean, clapping Ron a high five. Ron, looking entirely bemused, had no idea what was so great. Harry laughed at his expression.

'You kicked the ball into the opposite team's net. That wins us a point, a goal.'

'Only one?' Ron said incredulously. 'Why not ten?' Harry rolled his eyes, patting Ron on the back sympathetically before Dean tried to rearrange them for another kick off. That would take at least five minutes. Harry chanced a glance over to the stands. Hermione had chosen not to play, complaining about more work to do and the fact that it was cold and she didn't feel like running around. So, instead, she was sitting in the stands (they were playing on the quidditch pitch), several enchanted blue flames fluttering around her, scribbling away on some parchment, surrounded by text books, letters and a novel which was open, and was being read by a certain silvery creature who was wrapped up in a cocoon made from one of Harry's jumpers. It had been highly unimpressed by this to begin with, but after the cold wind nearly blew him of the bench and he got the shivers, he deigned to use the item for warmth. Harry shook his head, smiling, as the penndragonne awkwardly tugged the page over and scanned the pages with it's little eyes. It brought him back to the purpose of penndragonnes. What was his art? What exactly was the penndragonne going to give him inspiration for? Quidditch perhaps… Harry shook his head again. No, the penndragonne seemed the more scholarly type, rather than a sports fan. As this thought crossed his mind, his senses fogged by thought, a hard, swift object cracked against his head and bounced off, and he stumbled forward from the blow.

'Christ!' he snapped, wheeling around. Pavarti had her hands over her face, her eyes wide with horror. Lavender was in stitches.

'Quite a kick on that one,' Dean chuckled as Harry watched the football rolling in the grass. 'Are you alright?' Harry couldn't help but smile as the throbbing in his head began to die down.

'Sure,' he confirmed. 'Let's get back to the game!'

'Have you finished your potions essay?'

'Yeah… just about,' Harry scribbled the last couple of words onto his parchment and went to hand it to Ron.

'Don't encourage him!' Hermione snapped. Ron pouted.

'I just need a few more ideas, that's all!' he protested. Hermione scowled at him, but he snatched up the parchment anyway and began hurriedly scanning Harry's spidery writing.

Harry yawned and stretched, his t-shirt riding up with the movement. The penndragonne made a grumbling noise from it's position on the table, where it was still pouring over Hermione's novel and looking very pale. It had been napping all day, but not properly sleeping. It looked exhausted, and kept shooting Harry meaningful looks, but since he couldn't guess their meaning, they were wasted.

'Eurrgh,' Ron groaned. 'I can't wait until we're finished the potions section of our sports medi magic course.' He put Harry's essay on the coffee table, where the dragon almost dutifully pulled it closer and picked up a pencil. 'I thought I'd gotten rid of Snape for good when I took it up!' Harry smirked, but said nothing. These were their last two years at Hogwarts. The students had now picked subjects that would help them on their way in the big wide world, rather than scraping through by drawing subjects by straws like he and Ron had in the past. Harry was studying Charms, transfiguration, potions, care of magical creatures, defence against the dark arts and Myth studies (his own personal choice) on time table, with the extra medical magic courses in his free time, and Ron was taking sports medical magic, care of magical creatures, Charms, defence against the dark arts, Craft Magic and domestic magics (his mother's personal choice. In this way, they spent half their timetable apart- Ron focussing on a broader variety of subjects whilst Harry had begun to push for the Auror job he wanted. Every time he thought about not being good enough for it, he felt ill. He wanted to arrest Death Eaters. He wanted to see their visage drain when he stood over Voldemort, and more than anything he wanted to see the filthy murderous bastard beg for mercy, cowering at his feet. The Penndragonne sighed him out of his thoughts as he scribbled chaste corrections on the parchment and drew a rude face. Hermione yelped as she darned a hole in one of her jumpers, pricking her finger. She sucked it petulantly, then returned to her work.

'Why don't you just fix it?' Ron questioned. Hermione thwacked him with a ruler.

'Concentrate on your own work,' she chided. 'But if you must know, I'm testing out Blaise's Creative Magic project. A darning thread, that once darned into the fabric will prevent the whole item from tearing. I'm using one of your old jumpers to practise on.'

'You're letting something that flea-bitten Slytherin made touch my personal effects!' Ron bawled.

'Ron, do your essay,' Hermione groaned. 'And he's very nice actually. Not like the other Slytherin's at all. He's in the top five in the year academically-'

'Whoopdeebloodydoo…'

'-AND,' Hermione snarled. 'He is a very balanced, unprejudiced individual. Very likable.'

'Only you could say that about a Slytherin,' Ron groaned and Hermione darned.

'Ron, don't make me tell you again,' she hissed, and Ron hurried up his writing. There was a hint of a flush on her cheeks. 'Besides, the jumper's only an old one. You hardly wear it anymore. You threw it in Crookshank's basket about a week ago, but he threw it back out. Maybe once it's fixed…'

'If that string works.'

'-It'll be a bit warmer for him.'

'Or,' Ron sighed. 'You could give it back.'

'Oh now you're just being picky!' she protested. Harry sighed and shuffled in his chair.

'Ron, just do your essay,' he groaned. 'Hermione, stop fawning over Zabini. You know what his father is.' Hermione crinkled her nose distastefully.

'That's a bit prejudiced, Harry,' she muttered. He frowned and straightened his glasses, the penndragonne yawning lazily on the table.

'Better safe than sorry,' he growled. 'You know it was Crabbe and Goyle behind the last attack? We wouldn't have thought them capable of it. It's better in these times to be suspicious, for your own good.' Hermione sighed.

'Still,' she mused. 'it's a bit harsh to expect Blaise to be exactly like his father…'

'I don't see why not,' Harry shot back. 'What about Malfoy?'

'Malfoy is his father's clone, we all know that,' Hermione drawled. Ron's head shot up. Harry nodded.

'And Goyle and Crabbe- exactly like their fathers. Slytherin is chock full of bad eggs, and you know it.' Hermione frowned.

'Just because the needle's hard to find, doesn't mean it's not in the haystack,' she purred.

'Blaise is honest, and quite frankly critical of what the rest of his house are like.'

'More like two faced,' Ron chirruped. Hermione thwacked his leg with a notebook.

'You two are both so narrow-minded these days,' she complained. Harry narrowed his eyes.

'I think I have a right to be,' he sneered back. Hermione froze up a little.

'Ah…' she managed, before Harry began gathering his things, and scooping the half-unconscious Penndragonne into his arms, where it writhed feebly.

'Goodnight,' Harry sighed lifelessly, before trudging up the staircase. Hermione watched him go, clutching Ron's jumper tightly. There was a hurried scribbling before Ron threw down his parchment.

'Done!' he cried, before grinning at Harry's empty chair. His face fell.

'Where's he gone?' he asked dumbly. Hermione thwacked him again and embedded herself in her task.

Harry, though his curtains were shut, had them propped up on his pillow so that the silvery moonlight would spill across his bed. He had put the Penndragonne in it's box, but this time confined it to the table top in a hope of more successfully immobilising it. The dragon hadn't protested. It kept jolting as if forcing itself away from sleep as he himself tucked himself up, and failed to complain when he petted it goodnight. As Harry gazed into the brilliance of the waxing moon and, green eyes glittering in it's sombre glow, he did not notice the click of wobbly claws on the bedside table, nor the scrape of a bottle being dragged and tipped a little, before the thud of a body falling limp into peaceful, contented sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns her characters. I own mine. We have a legal settlement and everything.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…_

_WARNINGS: SLASH ON THE WAY. Do you think I'll get away with it on here? searches hurriedly for some hosting ;;_

A/N

Hrm, what to expect of this chapter? Halloween is on the way, and on this fine Monday morning, Harry and his so far nameless pet have to face the trials and tribulations of three whole lessons! Eep! Well, since I am evil, you can bet it won't be easy. ENJOY!

* * *

'Every Monday!' Hermione snarled. 'Every single Monday, you two are entirely incapable of getting up and getting ready on time!' The three of them were hurrying along the corridors and down, deeper and down into the clammy dungeons for a double helping of potions. Ron groaned breathlessly.

'If you're…' he panted, 'really so bloody used to it, 'mione,' he huffed, 'you might do the decent thing and MAKE SURE WE GET UP!'

'That is not my responsibility,' she snapped back as Harry peered miserably into his bag as they sped along, 'what do I look like? Your mother?' Ron snorted indignantly.

'If you're gonna complain every bloody week,' he snapped, 'then like the little heroine you are, you should jolly well get us up! You're always ready in plenty of time, anyway!'

'I am NOT a heroine!' Hermione hissed. 'And after six years here, I would have thought you two could at least get up on time! It's not like the timetables changed, and…' Hermione turned to see Harry standing still in the middle of the corridor, about ten feet back. 'Harry, what the hell are you doing?' Harry looked up sorrowfully.

'He won 't wake up,' he mumbled miserably.

'What?'

'You haven't killed it ALREADY!' Ron exclaimed. Hermione elbowed him. He growled.

'It's not dead,' said Harry, catching up. 'It's just… spark out.' He lifted the tiny silvery creature out of his bag and showed him to Ron. As he had said, it was limp as a rag, it's tiny body inflating and deflating slowly, his nostrils opening and closing like tiny vents. Hermione lifted it's head and stared at it for a while.

'It's not off colour,' she said after a brief pause. 'I don't think it's sick. Maybe… maybe it's just tired.' With that she dashed off down the stairs, calling for them to hurry up. Ron looked at Harry sympathetically and shrugged, before following. Harry watched him go, sighed mournfully, tucked the sleeping body away inside an accommodating pocket in his bag and jogged after them down the dark, dank staircase.

Cramped into the chilled dungeon, Harry was for once glad of the large numbers in the class since the sports and general medi magic classes had joined the tiny potions class. It meant that there was no elbow room for any one, and some desks had been added to the room up by Snape's desk. Perish the thought that they should sit there! Harry shuddered at the thought. Malfoy and his cronies had sat up there, but since the incident… well, Blaise had relocated to the main group since Draco was bunking lessons or in the hospital wing, and Pansy, of course, was at St Mungos. Hermione was animatedly chatting with said present Slytherin, while Ron grimaced and Harry poked the dozing critter in his bag with his wand hopelessly. It breathed deeply, but showed no other sign of life. Harry sighed.

'Page 335 in your textbooks,' a cool voice said, and suddenly the room was silent, the sound of boot heels cutting through the void with the precise cold rhythm of the knife on the chopping board. With a swish the black board scribbled itself the potion method- a dream revealing tonic of some sort, Harry wasn't really paying attention- and Snape appeared past the crammed rows of unenthusiastic students.

'Here we go again,' murmured Blaise. Hermione giggled. Ron scowled.

'You must follow this method exactly,' Snape drawled. 'Your textbooks will provide you with advice on how to handle in ingredients. Front row will collect their ingredients first. Keep an eye on the time.' He narrowed his eyes. 'This potion, though important practise for all of you, is not difficult. However, all the ingredients provide careful preparation. Before we move onto potions more… integral to the course,' he glared a pair of Hufflepuffs who were talking. 'I need proof that you can at least make handle the ingredients. Concentration is the key. Begin.'

'Cheerful as ever,' Ron sneered. Harry hummed in agreement, but lifted the Penndragonne from his bag and hid it from Snape's view behind the high lip of the potions bench.

'Good lord!' Blaise hissed, 'where did you get that from?'

'Mister Zabini…' Snape hissed. Blaise nodded to him curtly and their row of four filed out and gathered all the necessaries.

'I got it for him as a present,' Hermione confirmed quietly. The room hummed with quiet conversation. Snape seemed to be reading something very avidly. 'Well… caught it, actually.'

'I'm impressed, Granger,' Blaise drawled. 'Can't have been easy-'

'Why not!' snapped Ron. Snape glared, but went back to his reading. Blaise raised an eyebrow.

'Because Penndragonnes avoid capture like no other beast alive,' he explained sardonically. 'And ones not been seen, feral, this far north for at least 20 years.'

'Oh,' Ron managed, and Hermione and Blaise swept past him, back to their seats, chatting about creative magic. Ron, flushed, followed, and Harry hurried after him, but to no avail. The reptile lay prone, just as he had left it.

'Dozy fellow, isn't he?' Blaise commented. Harry smiled weakly and nodded in response, before Charming his quill to note down the method and tick things off as he did them.

Like most potions classes, this particular Monday the lesson dragged like no other, and Harry felt that end of the day sleepiness by the time he set his potion up for the final boil. Snape, having finished one reading task, had set about replying to it and Charmed the reply away, and was now reading his next long scroll. Harry set back in his chair and gazed into space for a while, the bubbling of cauldrons and hot, sleepy atmosphere lulling him. A hand trailed to where the creature should have been, but trailed across hard wood. Harry jumped and nearly upset his as-of-yet unwashed pestle and mortar of crumbly staining powders.

'Where-' Harry never finished his hissed sentence, and he felt his face blanching. Climbing up the table cloth of Snape's desk was a wriggling silver creature, ever so close to the top, determined looking and swift.

'Harry, isn't that…' Ron trailed off and gestured. Most of the other students were beginning to 'oo' and 'aa' and giggle at the little beast.

'Uhuh,' Harry swallowed hard as the tiny creatures claws grazed at the stack of books and papers in front of Snape.

'Call it back then!' Ron nudged him.

'Don't use the bracelet!' Hermione hissed desperately. 'What if he knocks over your potion pot?'

'Go and get him, quick, before Snape-'

'What's going on?' Snape snarled, standing up. 'You could be studying your textbooks, not idly chatting like old ladies…' Snape trailed off as he watched a silver smudge reach the top of his desk and shake itself out. 'What's this…?' Reaching out tentatively, he picked up the panting creature by the scruff of the neck. It shrieked in shock and surprise and writhed like a trapped viper. Snape raised up to near his face, to study it, and watching at it's head lashed within reach of his fingers, but did not bite, merely postured and hissed. 'Arrogant, violent beast.' He smirked. 'it wouldn't be yours, would it, Potter?' Some of the students laughed. Harry groaned.

'Yes, sir,' he said soullessly. The penndragonne wriggled around to look at Snape, and it suddenly seemed to light up, chattering animatedly and fixing with it's powerful silvery gaze.

'Amazing,' Snape purred coldly, 'how animals are so often like their…' he paused hatefully, 'masters.' He dropped the animal onto the desk, where it yelped indignantly, puffing smoke through it's nose, before coughing a little. Harry stood up quickly and raised his wand.

'Don't you raise your wand at me, boy,' Snape snapped.

'I was just-' Harry protested, but Snape's glare was final. Defeated, a little embarrassed, and now worried, he sat down. The dragon keened horribly, pawing at Snape, goggling at him, whimpering and crying to him, but he seemed undeterred.

'Your potions should be simmering now,' sure enough, most of them were. 'They won't be at full strength yet, but that's probably best knowing who we're dealing with.' Harry and Ron scowled. 'Collect a sample and bring it to my desk. Quickly!' The students lazily began their work again, but Harry was distracted by the crying and clicking of the little Dragon running around on Snape's desk. After about ten minutes, everyone was seated again. The potions ranged from Hermione's and Blaise's swirling semi transparent blue, right through to Ron's purple and Millicent's Green. Snape sighed critically. He raised a white vial.

'This is the antidote to the Dream oracle potion. It's name is White Reality. Those on my advanced course,' he glared at Harry, 'will learn how to make this more complex potion at a later date. I will use this to bring back our test subject from whatever horrors await it at the end of your… substances.' He sneered, and raised a sallow hand, clutching the downcast looking Penndragonne.

'No!' Harry protested.

'That's animal cruelty!' another voice popped up.

'If mister Potter sees fit to bring his pet into my classroom,' Snape smirked, 'then he should be willing to have it participate in my lesson plan.' With that he placed a pipette into a random test tube (Harry thanked his lucky stars that it was at least blue and transparent) and pinched open the Dragon's tiny mouth. The creature writhed and wailed, obviously horrified.

'Professor!' Harry protested again, but was ignored, and watched hopelessly as blue liquor splashed into the narrow mouth. After about 5 drops, Snape released the Dragon, and it scuttled off his desk, only to drop hard to the floor, prompting Harry to jump up, but it righted itself and snarled hatefully. Mid growl, it hiccoughed. Everyone leaned a little closer. It started to shivver a little, and it's pupils manically dilating, until they swallowed both of the silvery almonds. With a sudden shrieking hiccough, a sort of fog appeared like a cloud above the Dragon's head, and an unclear image began to form. Dark… dark swirling images, indistinct voices, then a sudden flash, and a scene they all knew to well. Voldemort looming over helpless people, screaming, people being thrown into the air and torn like paper. The dragon did nothing for a while, but suddenly with a heartbreaking scream it shot across the room, crashing into the door to the store cupboard. An empty glass container crashed down near to it, and it shot away again, wailing helplessly.

'It seems your Dragon has nightmares, Potter,' Snape drawled, vaguely amused. The Dragon shot back and forth, blinding searching for an exit, before stopping and kicking and scratching at it's body and face, wheezing and bawling desperately. Harry snatched it up and held it's feet away from it's body, and it sunk it's teeth into his hand, screaming into his flesh. He winced, but did not let go. Hermione swallowed hard.

'I think we understand how the potion works now, Professor,' she commented. Snape glared.

'5 points from Gryffindor for your smart alec attitude once again, Miss Granger,' Snape sneered. 'Alright, Potter, bring it up here.' Shivering in pain and rage, Harry forced himself up to the desk. The dragon's eyes were unnaturally far open, the cloud of hateful dreams right beside Harry's face, and it's teeth were still latched into Harry's thumb. It whimpered miserably. Snape went to snatch it from Harry's hands, but only succeeded in further jarring the teeth in Harry's flesh. He hissed between his teeth. The dragon pinched it's eyes shut in pure misery. With an almost absent minded flick of his wrist, Snape slapped his hand across the creature's hind quarters, lifting them in shock off of Harry's arm. The creature shrieked and released Harry's hand, and was immediately pulled away.

'Professor!' Hermione gasped, horrified. Angry mumblings hummed throughout the class. Truth be told, Harry was glad that the creature was no longer using his hand as a chew toy, but any reason to hate Snape more, eh?

'Hold still,' Snape snarled, obviously a novice when it came to handling animals. The Dragon yelped and screamed, backing away from his hands, and wilding gesticulating. For the first time since Harry had set eyes on the beast, he felt an odd sense of connection. With him blocking the way, no other student could see, but Harry, peering down at the wailing scrabbling lizard could see where it was screaming at, where it was backing away from. Snape's right forearm. The Dragon looked up at his desperately. Harry felt a connection like a twang to his heartstrings.

_Help me. Make it stop. Save me!_

'Excuse me, sir,' Harry said curtly, snatching the pipette from Snape's hand, grabbing the Dragon's head and squirting it's contents down it's throat. The Dragon shook again as Harry put it down.

'Don't muck around, boy!' Snape snarled, snatching back the pipette angrily and standing up to loom like a phantom over Harry. A hiccough distracted him, as the cloud vanished into a puff of white steam, and the black melted from the silver eyes. There was a moments peace, before, yowling like an alley cat, the Dragon leapt and latched onto a certain prominent facial feature of a certain irritable professor.

'That dragon's a menace,' Ron growled irritably. 'Sixty points from Gryffindor! Sixty!' Harry sighed.

'Well,' he mused, 'he could have killed him or something, so it could have been worse.' Ron groaned.

'Harry, mate,' he said, patting Harry on the shoulder. 'I'd kill the bloody lizard for sixty house points. In fact, I'd do it for thirty.' Ron stormed off towards the main door of the castle. Hermione and Blaise followed him. Harry turned and watched the Dragon following behind him angrily. He'd set the bracelet to three metres, and after a few nasty experiences with the stairs, the dragon had decided he'd walk rather than be forcibly dragged.

'Hurry up, you,' Harry said as encouragingly as he could muster. The dragon glared daggers at him and sat down. Harry rolled his eyes.

'In my bag,' he whispered to the bracelet, and the dragon yelped throatily as it landed unceremoniously in the dark depths of disorganised shambles of Harry's satchel. As Harry jogged out of the castle and towards Hagrid's hut, he didn't dare to follow up on the ill concealed sound of shredding paper coming from inside.

'This morning' we'll be startin' our advanced creature study project,' Hagrid explained as Professor Grubbly-Plank checked over an array of boxes. 'Over the nex' two years yer'll be doin' two o' three o' these here projects. As a real treat, I got yer a real special beastie for this time around.' He beamed. Some of the students whimpered. 'Ah, dun yer worry,' he chuckled. 'This one's perfectly safe and tame as they come… just a little unusual, s'all.'

'Right then,' Professor Grubbly-Plank said curtly. 'Line up, quickly now. We'll issue each one box. Each has a number on, and you will work only with creature you've been assigned to. Do you all understand?'

'Yes,' came the unenthusiastic reply. Hagrid sidled up to Harry.

'S'gonna be real exciting', playin' with these little beauties,' Hagrid sighed.

'So long as they're more friendly than my one,' Harry hissed under his breath.

'Professor,' Justin piped up, 'There's one too few. Harry hasn't got one yet.'

'I'm sure we ordered enough from the breeder,' She replied thoughtfully, checking her list.

'It's alright, Professor,' Harry butted in, muttering under his breath and reaching into his bag. He winced, and drew it out, dripping blood from gashes, but bearing a very irritable looking Penndragonne.

'You've got your own penndragonne, Potter?' Professor Grubbly-Plank asked, trying weakly to cover the surprise in her voice.

'Bliney, 'arry!' Hagrid gawped. 'Yer never told me, neither!' Harry extracted the Penndragonne from his bleeding hand and placed it on a nearby tree stump.

'I only got him on Friday,' he grumbled as the mob moved in.

Harry was used to people fussing over him, and so it wasn't too much of a struggle to get through the burning questions session from the other students. Of course, they all had their own work to get on with, and soon he was left to his own devices with nothing but a work parchment, a tree stump and a dysfunctional dragon for company. He was already stuck, and he'd only gotten to the first question.

'S'everyone alrigh'?' Hagrid asked cheerily.

'Yes!' everyone, save Harry, replied, chuckling at the silvery creatures fluttering around their heads, curled on their shoulders or winding around their hands.

'Myself and Hagrid will be coming around to check your progress in the next few minutes…' the professor's voice trailed off as Harry stared at his blank parchment.

'Dragon registration title…' Harry muttered, looking up at the creature before him, dwarfed by all the others present, with their melon sized bodies and matchbox sized heads. Harry sighed.

'Well, what do you want to be called?' he asked, and received no reply. The dragon sat perfectly still, facing away from him, unaware of the perfect opportunity Harry was getting to study the fine bone structure, the perfect curvature and form of the body, the delicate fragility of the tiny apparently dysfunctional wings, clad in the soft, fluttery, well maintained feathers. His heart was freely allowed to wrench at the lilac bruise and the silver perfection of the skin, the tiny claws which sat, retracted, in the slender toes of the four grasping feet. Professor Grubbly-Plank apologised for knocking him on her way to Hermione and Ron, and Harry snapped back to reality. The Dragon was looking at him. Not glaring, or sneering, or even staring maliciously. Just looking. Harry was drawn to the liquid almonds, the intelligence that poured from the dark, engaging pupils, almost as if, for just a few moments, the dragon was a-

'Though' of a name, yet?' Hagrid asked over Harry's shoulder. Harry muttered something incoherently, and the Dragon hissed at the overly large figure behind his keeper.

'Wha'?' Hagrid asked again. Harry looked up, smiling a little goofily.

'I said Silver,' he said lightly. 'I was looking at it, looking for inspiration, and that's what came to me.' The dragon groaned and grumbled into it's forepaws. Hagrid moved Harry's quill hand towards the parchment.

'Then get ta work,' he chuckled. 'An' don't get too distracted like by yer little runt, there.' Harry had to scream 'TREETRUNK' as the dragon lunged for Hagrid, uttering something foul in dragonish, and it impacted hard and angrily with the wood, spitting and snarling, humping it's back and lowering it's head like a viper. Hagrid stood up, scratching his head.

'Funny critter, 'at one,' he mused. Harry sighed.

'Too right.' He looked at his parchment, before gawping at Hagrid. 'And you expect me to measure it!'

'Terminado Sangra,' Harry muttered bitterly at Professor Flitwick told them all about complex enchantment structures, watching the scratches to his hand heal over. Having learnt from potions, despite Professor Flitwick's more kindly nature, he had confined the penndragonne to his bag with some food snatched from lunch. He had, of course, unpacked the rest of his belongings before putting the creature in, and had discovered just how worse for wear his poor Charms textbook was after it's brutal treatment after Potions. They had just gotten down to practising (on three kumquats) a distancing Charm, followed by a peeling Charm and finally the summoning Charm (to demonstrate how, even when objects are out of reach, a series of Spells can rearrange life for you) there was an almighty clattered at something crashed into the stained glass window at the top of the classroom.

'Oh!' Flitwick exclaimed. 'Venta Reparo!' The glass, before even hitting the ground, was back in it's frame, but the culprit fluttered, hooting wildly around the rafters. Giggles went up around the room.

'Pig…' Ron groaned. 'Why can't that bloody bird deliver at breakfast like any normal owl?'

'My sentiments exactly, Mr Weasley!' Professor Flitwick snapped. 'Please control your pets!'

'Sorry sir,' Ron muttered, beetroot. 'It won't happen again.'

'I should hope not,' Flitwick sighed. 'Now class, back to work! Remember- swish and-'

'-flick, swish and flick,' the class replied. Harry sighed, sort of content. He was glad he wasn't the only one with a psychopath for a pet. Ron tugged the thick bundle of letters off of the owl's leg, before turning his ink jar into a cage (a skill necessary for Pigwidgeon control) and shoving the berserker bird inside.

Harry didn't enquire into the nature of the letters for the rest of the day. It wasn't something he practised. Besides, he had taken to trying to teach Silver, as he was now, by the law of his ink, obliged to call the Penndragonne, to sit. He was failing abysmally. In fact, Pigwidgeon's attack on the Charms class hadn't really crossed his mind since Charms. He had been slacking off his studies this evening to try and befriend the aloof, and as Hagrid had so eloquently put it, runtish lizard. He had no reason to think about Ron's mail until Ron slumped down next to him on the sofa, jarring him.

'What's up?' Harry asked lightly. Ron looked vaguely giddy, vaguely mortified.

'We're going out for the weekend,' he whispered. Harry raised an eyebrow at him dubiously.

'I'm not camping out in the Forbidden Forest like Hermione had us do in September, Ron,' he sighed, and went back to trying to tempt the dragon to sit. Ron shook his head.

'No,' he hissed tersely. 'Dad arranged it. He had four invites… Him and Mum, you and Me… s'not really safe for Hermione, I guess… god knows why he got given them... What's that weirdo up to…'

'What are you withering on about, for god's sake?' Harry cut in. Ron's head snapped back from his mutterings.

'Look,' he said, proffering an opened envelope to Harry. Harry accepted and peered inside.

'They're tickets,' Harry commented. Ron nodded.

'Lucius Malfoy sent them to Dad,' he breathed.

'Malfoy!' Harry squawked, and the common room went a little quiet. The Penndragonne turned it's head a little. Ron slapped him upside the head and frowned.

'No need to shout,' he hissed. 'Read them.' Harry did. 'He sent them out to the whole ministry. Rumour has it he invites most of the Wizengamot too… even Dumbledore.'

'The Malfoy Halloween Celebration Festivities…' Harry muttered. 'You mean… we're spending the weekend at Malfoy Manor!'

* * *

A/N

Spanish time again! Some in self explanatory and nicked from HP itself, but…

Sangra- Sangre- Blood (remember, Harry was studying 'How to stop blood loss' earlier? Huh, huh?' )

Venta- Ventano- Window

I LOVE CLIFFIES! WHAHAHAH!. I apologise profusely, this chapter was beginning to drag, so I had to finish it up. That, and I'm knackered. Guess what's gonna happen in Chapter 5! Oh, and you get to meet a few more vitally important characters, next time.


	5. Chapter 5

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own Photoshop 7. And a pencil.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…_

_WARNINGS: Mild violence and non con at the end of the chapter_

A/N

Oh my giddy aunt! CHAPTER 5! Whee, this story is really moving along nicely now. I hope you've all picked on the plot twist now. If not, it won't spoil your reading at all, I promise.

This chapter, as you will see, takes us far away from Hogwarts, to a certain Manor in Wiltshire. Be prepared for some new characters (mainly my own- apologies) and some great fun!

* * *

'All packed?'

Harry couldn't believe how the week had sped past. It was a blur in his mind of the petulant penndragonne, his ever pressing studies and Ron staring in disbelief at the now well thumbed tickets to the Halloween Festivities at Malfoy Manor. Harry tucked Draco's essay away in his bag.

'Gimme a few more minutes, Ron,' he protested, before eying the clock. 'Your Dad won't be here for another hour!'

'That's not the point!' Ron squawked, before Pig's voice covered his. Harry shook his head. Silver, ever calculating, but appearing rested and calm, sat on his bed and watched calmly as Harry packed. When Harry slipped in the essay tube, he attempted to follow it, but was deferred away like a cat. He swiped at Harry's hand, but missed.

'That's Malfoy's,' Harry explained in a slightly patronising tone, which earned him the coldest of all death glares from the reptilian midget.

'Are you nearly done?' Hermione asked from the doorway. 'Ron's having a coronary downstairs with Pig… and I think he'd nervous.'

'Wouldn't you be?' Harry asked lightly, scanning his strewn belongings. 'He's going into the lion's den for a weekend.' Hermione frowned thoughtfully, her Penndragonne, dubbed Tigerlily, toying idly with her hair.

'I wish I was going,' Hermione mused. 'I read that malfoy Manor is an ageless wonder of architecture, held together with magic, full of history…'

'And a Muggle-born hating convicted death eater…' Harry added. Silver began to shred his bed sheets. Hermione extracted Tigerlily from her hair and let the Dragon flutter off around the room, stooping to gather up Crookshanks.

'Lucius Malfoy,' she hissed, 'is under restriction. His wand has a limiter on it. He can only use so much power in a day, and he cannot leave his house.' She smirked. 'I hear he can't even go outside for the festivities this weekend.' She sighed. 'My point is, I wouldn't have been in any danger.'

'What about Draco?' Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him.

'Apart from being a ferrety little brat,' Silver stalked the bed, obliterating a passing spider, 'he's… damaged-' there was a delighted shriek from over their heads and the golden eyed Tigerlily spotted her miniature beau. Looping, she dived, and elicited a yowl of dismay as Harry's dragon shot across the confines of the bed. Tigerlily hit him like a cannonball, knocking him clean over and onto the pillows, sprawled in a most undignified manner. Bouncing and squeaking excitedly, Tigerlily eyed him playfully, more than twice his size, and still considered adolescent.

'Hermione!' Harry growled. She laughed.

'I have no idea why she follows him so much. Every time I bring her up here to study, she's always looking for him.' Tigerlily quacked, cocking her head. Silver hissed hatefully, glaring at her.

'Play nice,' Harry chided. The dragon defiantly puffed smoke through its nostrils and folded its forepaws. Tigerlily hopped closer, squeaking, and within seconds had reeled away screaming like a banshee, rubbing at the painful line across her face where Silver's tail had caught her.

'Silver!' Hermione and Harry chastised in unison. Silver defiantly ignored them and lay his head down to doze. Harry sighed as Tigerlily alighted on his head, keening miserably.

'Sorry, girl,' Harry eased, lifting her into his hands, 'Silver's not exactly the playmate kind of midget.' Silver snorted indignantly and crawled behind the pillows sulkily. Harry relinquished Hermione's project, shaking his head, before finishing his packing and heading for the door. He turned, briefly to look to Silver, but since only the swishing tail of his penndragonne was visible, he deigned to call it to him when they were due to leave. He left, muttering 'dormitory' to his bracelet. As the door clicked shut, Silver saw his chance. His anger melted, and he carefully lowered himself to the floor and clicked over to Ron's bedside cabinet. He yanked open the door to the lower section and rolled out a dark blue vial. He, nudging with his nose, rolled it across the floor and under the bed, where he sat, tense and waiting, among the under-bed litter, clinging to the bottle until he welted the glass with his grip.

Hermione had accompanied Ron and Harry to the carriage where Mr Weasley was waiting for them. Ron had been expecting floo powder. Harry had at least expected to have to use his broom. A laid on carriage, gleaming ebony with silver inlay and ornamentation was not what he had expected. Lucius Malfoy was really pulling out all the stops in this stunt. Even to impress Arthur Weasley, who, like a rag in a satin spread four poster hung out of one of the windows, waving to Ron and Harry. The driver, a young man, was dressed in top and tails, and when he nodded his head politely to Harry and Ron, the Malfoy smirk was clear on his pale lips. Harry hadn't even noted what was pulling the cart until Hermione squeaked abnormally. Harry's gaze caught up with hers, and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Still, he wasn't surprised to see Hagrid lurking, cooing like a new mother to the three monstrosities harnesses to the carriage, snarling like caged pitbulls. With bodies lost somewhere between bulls, stallions and wolves, the creatures were already confused, but with huge bat-like dragon's wings, spined and crested backs, antlers, horns, a tail like a scaly lion crossed with a fox, and the head of an extremely large, confused and horned horse, they were more than a little intimidating.

'They must be some sort of chimera,' Hermione hissed. Ron swallowed hard.

'They look like something Hagrid thought up,' he complained. Hagrid had made his way up to the lead beast, a young male, cooing and holding out a hand. The creature whined and snuffled at it cautiously, the two behind it hissing and snapping irritably, before it accepted some sort of dead animal from inside Hagrid's coat. It snatched it from his hands and flung his head back, tearing it in twain. The two behind shrieked and snatched the flying body from the air, ripping it asunder and spraying the lead beast's back with entrails. Hermione covered her mouth tellingly. As did Ron. A footman came and took their cases as the two rear beasts licked guts of the curved rump of the leader, him pacing a little on the spot, his claws and hooves clicking, his huge bulk leaning to Hagrid to search for more. As Harry and Ron bid Hermione goodbye, the driver yanked his reins and cracked his whip, sending sparks of energy flying into the creatures. They shrieked, bucked, kicked, roared aggressively, but no longer sought Hagrid.

'Amadenian Chimera's are not for petting, oaf,' the young man snarled at Hagrid. 'Feed em, and they'll see you as meat yourself. Now, get ye gone! I have passengers to deliver!'

'Oi!' Harry cried, storming up to the front of the carriage from his place at the steps. 'Don't shout at him like that!'

'S'all righ' Harry,' Hagrid sighed. 'Twasn't my place anyhow… jus' curious, is all…'

'He still had no right to yell at you like tha-' Harry's sentence was cut short as a dinner plate sized hoof collided with his chest and threw him several metres. He landed with a thump, opening his eyes to see the chimeras bearing there teeth at him, making an odd snickering sound. There was human intelligence in their eyes. It disconcerted him.

'As I said, boy,' the man sneered, and even though his eyes were blue, there was a familiar harsh and aloof coldness to them. 'Amadenian Chimera's are not to be petted. Nor are they to be approached. They're a fair sight smarter than you think, boy. Probably a fair sight smarter than you yourself, I'd imagine.' He narrowed his eyes. 'So, if you'd be so kind as to get in the carriage, we can all get underway.' Ron and Hermione, who had rushed over, helped him to his feet, but his glare flicked between the driver and the sinister beasts as their glowing eyes followed him. As he slammed the door shut, he heard the driver bidding a good day to Hagrid, before the carriage lurched, and he found himself automatically waving goodbye to Hermione's fading image.

'Now then, boys,' said Mr Weasley. 'How about a game of exploding snap?'

Harry had discovered earlier in the week what the penndragonne was doing with the little blue bottle. He had been tempted to stop it from drugging itself to sleep, but he, like the rest of his Potions class, had seen its nightmares. He empathised, rather than criticised, and trusted the beast's intelligence. Besides, Silver was plain adorable when he was sleeping. All the tension left his velvet skinned body, an his face was ironed of it's scowling demeanour, leaving only the fine bone structure, delicate features and soft purring of his breath as it left his lungs. While Silver slept, dreamless and peaceful, Harry could hold him, pet him, look at him, without fear of rebuke, injury or the dark and hurtful criticism of the boiling grey eyes that lurked within the tiny skull. While Ron dozed and Mr Weasley snored, Harry spent his sleepless time doing just that, the image in the cloud never far from his mind. That dark looming figure… had it been Voldemort? The vision had been blurry, but there were figures everywhere, all equally dark, but one or two larger than the others. Harry sighed. He felt as though he might have sussed the tiny animal out once and for all. Somehow, Silver had been in the grounds when the attack had taken place. Disorientated and terrified, he had taken refuge in the castle where the dust had choked him and Hermione had rescued him. A tiny runt like this was likely to be sickly, and however he had gotten out into the cold outdoors, the large space would have easily led him astray into Hogwarts' grounds.

'Poor Silver,' Harry muttered, stroking the slender, carved lines of his throat, and watching the little creature reflexively swallow.

'Doesn't seem to badly off to me,' Ron drawled sleepily, opening one eye to smirk at Harry. 'You like it more than it deserves to be liked.'

'Whatever you say, will you at least admit that it's cute?' Harry grinned. Ron raised an eyebrow.

'You sound like Hermione talking about some deranged House Elf or something.'

'Shut up, you,' Harry snapped back, hugging Silver to his chest. 'He's adorable. Like Grumpy from Snow White.'

'What's Snow White?' Ron asked blankly. Harry shook his head.

'Muggle film,' he groaned. 'Don't worry about it.' Ron sighed.

'Sometimes I feel like the isolated one when you and Hermione witter on about Muggle stuff. I swear it's meant to be the other way around.'

'Gee, Ron,' Harry joked. 'You're gonna fit in just fine at the manor.'

'Don't even joke about that,' Ron scowled. 'I can't believe you persuaded me into coming.'

'Me!' Harry guffawed. 'You were the one trying to get me ready quicker!'

'Lies!'

'Come on Ron, admit it,' Harry smirked as Silver snuggled into his chest sleepily. 'You're excited, if only for the chance to go black magic hunting.' Ron's scowl deepened.

'Don't know what you're talking about,' he finally grumbled. 'Too many of those Muggle film things are obviously bad for your brain.' Harry snorted in amusement, secretly overjoyed that, at least when sleeping, Silver seemed to seek his warmth for comfort. Obviously the serum didn't work perfectly on penndragonnes, because his eyes still flickered dreamily, but at least he was calm, and woke refreshed and well. Silver's mouth cracked open, and he made a light gurgling noise, before snuggling even deeper into the folds of Harry's jumper. As Harry released his grip a little to take one of the chocolate frogs that Ron was grudgingly offering him, Silver's eyes flew open, but Harry's mind was flooded not with his shrieking, but with burning pain and a voice he knew all to well.

_I know what He's planning. I know His real cause. Find Him, before He can! He, if nothing else, will make a good defence against his arsenal…_

'Harry! Harry snap out of it!' A hissing noise, as well as the tapping of Ron's hand against his head brought him back. He peeled his eyes open, but event eh dim glow of the candles stung like hellfire.

'Ow,' he complained. He heard scrabbling moving up his seat, along with hissing.

'Oh shut up, you miserable runt,' Ron hissed. Silver yowled back at him. 'You heard

me!'

'Don't,' Harry chided. 'He's just frightened.'

'Of what?' Ron snarled as Harry began sitting himself back up with Ron's help.

'What just happened,' Harry whispered. 'Of Voldemort.' The silence that fell after that was heavy and cool. The wind whistled outside the carriage. Mr Weasley snuffled a little in his heavy sleep. The harnesses of the chimeras creaked against he strain.

'That dragon's a maniac,' Ron said to break the silence. 'He's nothing like any of the other ones.'

'He's younger, that's why,' Harry explained. 'And I've never had Chudley or Tigerlily or one of the other's around when I've had a…' he was tempted to say vision. He was tempted to say psychotic episode. He settled on saying neither. Ron knew what he was talking about anyway. They fell into another painful silence.

'How long do you reckon this is going to take?' Harry broke the silence this time.

'Dad didn't know. But he said we're going to Wiltshire. That's where Malfoy Manor is.'

'That's at the other bloody end of the country!' Harry groaned.

'Well, it's not as if we're travelling by train or anything,' Ron mused. 'It's a chimera drawn carriage!'

'Only a few more hours, then?'

'By my reckoning,' Ron sighed, wriggling into the velvet chair. 'This isn't half bad for a piece of Malfoy property.'

'Mmm,' Harry agreed, snuggling into the soft chairs. 'Morbid, but tastefully so.' Ron chuckled.

'Fancy a game of chess?'

'Sure, why not,' Harry mused. Ron began to set up. Harry raided the travel bag for a flagon of pumpkin juice and some munchies.

'Silver,' he called under the chair. 'Are you hungry?' A pair of emotionless silver eyes blinked back at him from the gloom. Harry smirked. 'Feeling better, then?' He tore off a bit of a sandwich, and felt it be snatched out of his hands as the critter lumbered back into the gloom to munch. Ron heaved a muttering Chudley (his Penndragonne, for the remainder of the COMC course) out of his bag and plunked him on the seat. He was still half asleep, and without further prompting, proceeded to return to his previous dozing. Chudley, named after Ron's favorite Quidditch team, was approximately six times the mass of diminutive Silver. This was not only because Silver was dwarfish, but because Chudley was immense. He was energetic, but slow witted, and very greedy, and was incapable of walking or running, preferring more the waddle and puppyish flounce. He was probably the most ridiculous, plump and dense penndragonne ever to be seen. Ron adored him. Ron stroked him after setting up every chess piece.

'I'm glad Hagrid let me bring him,' Ron mused. 'He'd probably of forgotten me if I'd left him behind.'

'I highly doubt that,' Harry mused. 'I mean, who else would put up with him stealing half their food all the time?' At this precise moment, Chudley had awoken enough to eat Ron's sandwich. Silver clicked out from under the chair and clambered up onto the seats opposite. He curled up on a satin cushion and glared demurely at anyone who cared to come under his gaze. A clock materialized out of the wall above him and chimed three.

'What do you suppose that means?' Ron asked. Harry frowned.

'Maybe three hours to go?' He looked out of the window at the dark world passing by. 'I wonder what happens when we get there.' Silver puffed smoke through his nose and nodded to a small black book behind Harry. Harry collected it, but it was Ron who read it.

He quoted 'Guests will be arriving from 6pm onwards on the night of the 29th. Guests will report to the main door, through the main gateway. They may leave their beasts, carriages and other modes of transport with the valet. Guests will them be escorted to their chambers. On the morning of thirtieth, breakfast will be served in the left wing dining hall between eight and eleven. The grand hunt begins at one. Those intending to hunt should gather on the Ancestry lawn to the east of the building. The feast will be held at seven in the evening in her Ladyship's Hall-'

'Slow down!' Harry protested. 'I'm not taking all of this in!'

'Neither am I,' Ron groaned. 'It's so complicated. Go here at this time, go there next, east west, up down… Shall we just wing it?'

'Yeah,' Harry grinned, 'go for it.' The started the game, and Chudley fluttered off behind Ron, and stared, unnervingly, into the back of his head.

'So why did Lucius Malfoy invite your dad and us?' Harry enquired. Ron frowned.

'He sent tickets to the entire ministry. Basically, he was trying to suck up. Dad said that loads of people refused to go, but he and mum decided it would be a good idea. God knows why.'

'And then they invited us to fill up the two gaps…'

'Percy's too busy… and things are still a little rough with him,' Ron sighed. 'Fred and George can't keep their gobs shut, Ginny… well, that's a no brainer, and Charlie and Bill are away. That leaves-'

'You and me.'

'Exactly.' Ron sighed. 'Check mate.' His queen obliterated Harry's king violently.

'How the bloody hell did you do that!' Harry exclaimed. Chudely crawled over Ron's shoulder, gurgling. Harry frowned.

'I swear that's cheating.' Ron grinned.

'What can I say?' He petted the dragon. 'He loves Chess!' Chudley gurgled cheerily. Silver grimaced in disdain.

Harry and Ron, having dozed off, were not expecting the tumultuous thump that awoke them, and sent Silver reeling into Harry's lap with a shriek. Paling, the creature cried out again and tried to scamper away, but Harry held him in place on his knees.

'What on earth was that!' A dozy, sleep-slurring Arthur Weasley enquired. A slot opened in the front of the carriage, and the meek, pale footman peered through, his youthful face smiling bashfully.

'Chimera's aren't very good at smooth landings,' he explained. 'Apologies from the driver.' He closed the slot hastily, but not before Harry got a glimpse of a locket, about thimble sized, filled with a suspiciously scarlet liquid, which hung on a long gold chain around his neck.

'Well, if they've landed, we can't be far,' Mr Weasley speculated as Ron rolled over on the seat and fell back to sleep in the now slightly jiggling carriage. Harry did not. Silver was tense in his grip, but did not try to escape. He postured angrily at Harry's fingers from time to time, which held him in place on Harry's thighs, but he seemed as sleepy as everyone else and too tired to be violent. The clock chimed a half and twinkled green. Harry picked up Silver in one hand and shuffled closer to the window, where he lifted the curtain and peered out. They were clattering along a country track, down towards a tiny rural village, illuminated only by the glowing, curtained windows. Over the fields of cattle, sheep and other domestic beasts, the myriad of glows that signified the looming manor twinkled like distant spooks in the black, and the jagged, forested crest of the hill it stood on was clear against the moon-bright sky. The lunar orb glowed near full. Harry's thoughts drifted briefly to Professor Lupin, but were quickly swayed back when he felt pricking on his chest. He had absent mindedly clutched Silver to him, almost for comfort, and, though exhausted, the tiny beast, thoroughly pale and horrified had dug in its claws through the several layers of Harry's clothing in process.

'Oh don't complain,' Harry hissed, looking down into the distraught eyes. 'It's not as if I'm stabbing you or something.' Silver growled. Ron sat up, apparently more sleepless than it had appeared.

'Yeah, Silver,' Ron sneered. 'Learn some manners. And some affection wouldn't hurt either.' He lifted Chudley into a matching hug. 'Like this, grasshopper.' Chudley purred contentedly, nuzzling Ron's jumper. Silver looked disdainful, but his claws could get any deeper, so, defeated, he relaxed a little and set about chewing holes in the jumper he was so firmly pressed against. He gave up quickly. The wool obviously wasn't to his taste. He did, however, completely object, and ferociously, when Harry tried to stroke his head. He lashed his neck, hissed and spat, bearing his teeth and snarling. After that, Harry was put off from trying again, and consented just to hold the Penndragonne, as he and Ron watched the manor approaching. Harry noted that Silver was watching too, and unconsciously pressing himself closer to Harry's chest with every passing mile.

As Harry stepped out of the carriage, the tiredness hit him before the surrounding did. Very little was visible under the heavy blanket of the night, but he could hear animals, people working shouts, the sound of constructive Spells. The night air thrummed with the sort of activity he would have expected of the daytime. The Driver stepped down from his seat, leaving the footman. Wiping his brow, the driver took off his hat and went around to the back of the carriage, where with the flick of a silver birch wand he levitated to baggage. He moved back around to the door, to ensure that they had all safely made their way from the carriage.

'It is my honourable duty,' he drawled, looking the image of boredom. 'To welcome you, most esteemed guests to Malfoy Manor. Upon entering the manor, a member of staff will escort you to your room and offer you further guidance. Until such time as you should enter the manor, you are under my jurisdiction.' He seemed to relax, his sparkling eyes flitting between the Weasleys and Harry. 'And here's where you need to concentrate. Don't go and pet the chimeras, or any other beasts you see around here. I won't take the blame for any injuries, poisonings or impromptu deaths that may occur. Secondly,' he narrowed his eyes a little. 'No wandering off. I'll lead you straight up to the manor, through a path which has been specially arranged for this evening. The manor and it's grounds are a dangerous place, especially after dark.'

'And why would that be?' Mr Weasley asked snidely. The driver smirked.

'Because Mister Malfoy's ancestors hated non-pureblood wizards,' he said gently, eyes settling for a moment on Harry. 'And they liked intruders, nosy parkers and children even less.'

'I wouldn't suppose a lot has changed then,' Mr Weasley mused. The Driver's smirk widened.

'I wouldn't have asked you to, sir,' the venom with which he said the honorific, though well covered, was clear. 'Shall we move on?' He clicked his fingers to the cases and they shot away and up and over the rise. He was about to lead off, when someone loudly called.

'Evelyn!' and waved erratically at him in the gloom.

'A moment, sirs,' he said quickly, and dashed away. Mr Weasley began mentally taking notes of his surroundings, and Ron played with Chudley, who like an overweight baby, was curled inside his coat, pawing and meowing like a cat. With no one to stop him, Harry's curiosity got the better of him, and, keeping his distance, he walked until he was parallel with the chimeras, even surrounded by the noise and dark, their shining blood eyes glinting at him, glowing from within. Silver, who Harry was still clutching at, wriggled from his grip and climbed onto his shoulder. He was ignored. Harry heard the harnesses creak as the Chimeras began to lean. However, despite hearing, he was unaware of what he did as he stepped towards that sound. Even the quickening of the chimera's puffing breath did not alert him, or the widening of now whirling golden eyes. He wasn't even aware of raising a hand towards a set of widening jaws…

'Harry!' Ron squawked, seeing what was going on. Baying, the young male lead beast, eyes still entrancing his quarry, lunged for the flesh, but was stopped by a flash of silver darting down the arm and catching the whirling gaze. As if he'd been frozen, the beast stayed, his harness jingling despite his cessation of movement. Silver locked eyes with him, winter pouring into gold and blood. Harry stayed frozen, eyes unseeing and wide. The chimera blinked slowly. Silver did not. The chimera puffed through it's nose. Silver did not. Very gently the chimera began to lean, but a sharp bark brought it scuddering back to attention at the front of the procession, it's two flanking mares following it, all stock still, erect, possibly even terrified. Silver lashed his tail and flattened his ear crests, narrowing his eyes. The chimeras whimpered a little, a keening sort of whine made only by the puffing of their diaphragms.

'Bloody hell,' Ron managed. Chudley cooed appreciatively to his cousin. Silver, sulkily, slithered back up Harry's arm, and he sat, once more, upon his shoulder, demurely pondering the world and its intricacies. Harry, as is relaxing from a state of high tension, folded back into reality, blinking and letting his arm drop like a dead weight.

'Are you alright?' Ron asked hurriedly, beckoning Harry away from the statue like Chimeras, which almost upon the instant where driven away by the returning footman.

'Fine,' Harry mused. 'I was just looking at them. Trying to suss them out a bit, that's all.' Ron frowned, and looked at Silver. The dragon met his gaze, and narrowed his own.

'Why?' said Harry. 'Did something happen?' Ron, after a short pause, shook his head.

'No,' he lied. 'Not really.'

Harry had been disappointed by his entry to the grand manor house. Evelyn, as the Driver was called, had led them along a winding, hilly path, laid with quite ordinary stone to a small side door, where a maid collected him and Ron and led them into a room that wasn't really much grander than any of the soft furnished rooms at Hogwarts.

'Evelyn,' said a young maid with a thick accent. 'Can joo wait for a moment or two wizz the boys? I must escort Mr Weezlee.' With that, she exited, and Evelyn re-entered.

'Don't mind if I loosen this jacket, do you?' he asked cordially. Ron and Harry shook their heads. Evelyn sighed, slumping into an armchair and unbuttoning the fitted black dress coat.

'Apologies for the waiting room- it's the servants' living room. Mister Malfoy hasn't finished the preparations on the rest of the house due to his…' he swallowed hard and lowered his voice. 'Limitations.'

'Understandable,' Harry said gently, looking around. 'There are a lot of portraits for a servants lounge.' Evelyn followed his gaze to one prominent portrait above the fireplace of a man, probably in his thirties, who had the looks of a Malfoy, but a happiness and light in even the painted visage of his face that made he far more approachable and friendly to look at. He was laughing mutely as he played with what looked like puppies.

'You'll see portraits and paintings in every room,' Evelyn finally replied. 'All except the ballroom. Usually, it is covered in portraits, but they have been moved for the occasion. Some of Mister Malfoy's Greek relations have a habit of getting a little rowdy on Uzo and splattering then with food. That's why Lord Amadeus is down here today.' The painting looked up at the mention of its name and waved cheerily, before being swamped by the leaping puppies. Harry counted sixteen.

'Are you attending the party?' Ron asked meekly. Evelyn smiled, removing a locket that matched the footman's from around his neck and tucking it away.

'Why do you ask?' he drawled easily.

'You're a Malfoy, aren't you?' Ron asked. Chudley peered out from his Jumper. Evelyn smiled.

'A Malfoy-Rottering,' he said gently, getting up to poke the fire. 'And I am only invited to work.'

'Oh,' Ron said softly. Chudley keened. Silver was watching the portrait with as much intensity as Harry. The fire flared and cast a shimmering red glow over the oil paint.

'Chimeras!' Harry spluttered. Evelyn turned and eyed him almost sleepily.

'What about them?' he sighed, moving to lean on the sideboard.

'In the painting!' Harry pointed at the animals Amadeus was playing with. 'He's playing with Chimeras!' Evelyn peered at the painting.

'So he is,' he mused, looking bored and tired. 'They're cute at that age.' He stretched.

'Family stories say that Amadeus' chimeras never grew up for him. Even full grown, they would roll on their backs for him, or cuddle up to him when they could. He was a father to them.' Harry's gaze reluctantly was caught why Silver hooking a small painting off the wall and examining it with a fish-hooked neck.

'Silver!' Harry gasped, snatching it away. Silver hissed and jumped down the back of the sofa. Evelyn chuckled.

'Curious little runt you've got there,' he mused, examining his nails.

'S'for our Care of Magical Creature's advanced projects,' he said quickly. 'Hagrid said we could bring them along. So they'll bond to us more.' Evelyn nodded.

'I did Care of Magical Creatures at Durmstrang,' he wittered, petting Chudley. 'Of course, my "advanced project" was a Runespoor rather than a penndragonne. Probably would have been nicer though. I had to Charm mine to stop it from attacking its other heads. Most people finished the course with only a stripey snake and failed.' Harry peered into the painting. It was tiny, perhaps even just a framed photograph, but it was something wondrous to him. A fully grown penndragonne was so far draped across a tiny boy's lap that he couldn't move, and he giggled as it nuzzled his face. Feather's from it's large wings littered the floor, and his black velvet dress robes were tinged with the rug's dust. The boy looked up, before waving at him, still laughing. He couldn't have been more than three. Harry smiled and found himself waving back. The door reopened and the maid re-entered, a little red in the face.

'Master Weezlee,' she puffed. 'You muzzer has this moment arrived. I have sent Marie with her and joor father to their quarters.' She turned to face the entire room. 'Would you, Master Weezlee, and you, Master Potter, pleez follow me to joor quarters.' Harry whispered to the bracelet 'my shoulder' as he stood up, and the chair jumped forward as Silver was slung up beside Harry's head. Thankfully, the foreign maid had been exiting the room at the time, so hadn't seen it. Silver hissed hatefully, and Chudley giggled.

'Are you coming to the hunt tomorrow?' Evelyn asked, just as they moved to the door. Harry and Ron turned.

'I… we hadn't really thought about it,' Harry muttered. Ron looked uneasy. Evelyn smirked and tossed something to Ron.

'You'll probably need this then,' he grinned. 'Have a good evening, gentlemen, Penndragonnes.' He caught Silver's eyes and paled a little, before sweeping from the room. Ron peeled open his hands and nudged Harry as the darker haired boy pocketed the framed photo. It was the scarlet locket that Evelyn and the Footman had worn.

'Are you quite certain of what you saw?'

'Positive,' said the voice of the kneeling man, shivering with desperation, cheeks flushed, uncomfortable. 'Now… please…'

'Confirm to me,' said the cooler, slower, calmer voice of the questioner. 'Tell me… exactly what you saw…'

'Please…'

'Tell me!' The questioner stepped out of the shadows, and the kneeling man winced and groaned wantonly at the shimmering fire of his assailants eyes.

'A penndragonne,' he whispered, words interspersed with pants and huffs of inexperience. 'On the Potter boy's shoulder. Curious… clever… bitter… with…' he groaned and shuddered.

'With what?' The words issued from full, lily white lips that seemed to merge with porcelain skin of the man's face.

'Silver…' the man whispered, raising his dark haired head, blue eyes glittering. 'Silver eyes.' His assailant allowed a smile to cross his lips, and he crouched down before the man.

'Good boy,' he whispered, his dizzyingly warm breath crossing the skin of the man's face like a lovers touch. 'You are so observant for me… my Evelyn.' He captured the back of Evelyn's head with one hand, and used the other to trace wild patterns on Evelyn's body as he took Evelyn's lips in a possessive, lust-filled rage of movement. Evelyn whimpered, and was thrown back onto his backside, his lip bleeding from a sharp wound. His assailant narrowed his flaming eyes and straddled the shivering, lust-poisoned body of his informant. Evelyn watched his hands move to his face, doodling almost.

'Did you see anything else?' asked the questioner.

'What do you mean by that?' Evelyn asked lightly, breath catching in his throat just by the featherlight, meaningless touches of his assailant. 'I've told you everything… now… release me.' The questioner raised an eyebrow.

'Do you really want to be released?' he asked softly, eyes intensifying and eliciting a sharp gasp from a now shivering Evelyn.

'Yes!' Evelyn snapped hoarsely. 'This isn't fair and I hate it-'

'There are many things in life which are not fair,' the assailant said bitterly, finishing his picture and clicking his fingers so it glowed. 'There are many things that you hate. That does not mean that they just go away when you ask.' He stood up, and Evelyn breathed a small sigh of almost relief. 'Are you sure that's really all you know?'

'Yes,' Evelyn snapped, wiping blood off his chin. 'If you're so bloody interested, you can go and see for yourself!'

'I will,' the attacker said, eyes flashing blue as Evelyn's markings caught fire, and his eyes fell blank. He fell back against the floor, panting and limp.

'We didn't have this conversation,' said the icy voice. 'What do you know about Harry Potter coming to manor today?' Evelyn sat on, his hard-on vanished along with the drawings, his eyes still trying to find their light again and blood trickling from his ear and lip.

'I took him up to the house,' he whispered dryly. 'Antionette took him from there.' The assailant smiled and turned away.

'Good boy, Evelyn,' he smiled as he released the chain on the chimera and gestured to the young man's bare neck. 'Good boy.'

* * *

A/N

GASP! WHO IS THIS ASSAILANT OF WHICH I SPEAK? Find out soon! And yes… he oozes Slash. I pwomise

MWAH! Keep reviewing!


	6. Chapter 6

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I own Photoshop 7. And a pencil.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: SLASH ON THE WAY. Do you think I'll get away with it on here? searches hurriedly for some hosting ;;_

A/N

Whee! CHAPTER 6! Lots of Malfoy manor in this one. I expect Malfoy Manor is going to take at least one more chapter A new character in this chapter, and a repeat appearance of a certain pale figure

I hope this chapter doesn't feel very pointless. I worry about that sort of thing. I've tried to really delve into Silver's character this time, hopefully drawing out the truth about him for anyone who hadn't got the twist yet.

LOADS more the come, more new, but vital characters on the way, and luscious scenes too. And the chapter of uber slash will follow directly after Malfoy Manor. I will flag it up, I promise.

Oh, and this chapter is pretty short, innit?

* * *

Harry awoke with a throbbing headache. He knew this sort of pain. Someone had wiped away part of his memory. He sat up, trying to locate what was missing, and was reassured, somewhat, that it was only his trip from the servant's lounge to his quarters. Part of him was glad that this was the only bit missing, the other part anxious about getting lost. He looked at an ornate clock on the opposite side of the vast room. Five am. And yet, Harry had the distinct feeling that he wouldn't get back to sleep, even if he tried.

'All right,' he muttered to himself. 'Time to explore.' He shuffled around in the scarlet-sheeted bed and stepped onto the cool hardwood floor. A sharp snort made him freeze, but Silver merely rolled over and proceeded to sleep, clutching his little blue bottle like a teddy bear. On the bedside table, even in the dim pre sunrise light of the room, Harry espied the little boy and his penndragonne playing on the rug in front of the hearth. He had dismantled the frame. He now knew, by the writing on the back of the photograph, that the boy, so cheerful and jolly and small was in fact five, not three, and was in fact an odd incarnation of a young man he knew all too well. Harry, standing over the bedside table, picked up the photograph, studying it cautiously. This wasn't the Draco Malfoy he knew. Draco Malfoy of the present day had forgotten how to smile, how to really laugh, how to care. And he HATED animals. And the Draco Malfoy of the present would never have admitted to having a comforter, or three nurses popping in from other portraits of photos from time to time to check on his fever, deliver him medicines and the suchlike.

'It was a sickly child,' said a black haired woman from a portrait on the wall. She was very beautiful, and quite familiar. 'It enjoyed playing on the floor, even when it was too sick to be doing so. Silly wretch.'

'Are you…' Harry began, but shook his head. He placed the tiny photo back in its frame and moved to the wardrobe, where his belongings had been meticulously unpacked and arranged. He pulled out nice nicest non-formal gear, a little daunted by the surroundings, wandered awestruck into the en-suite to bathe, before dressing and exiting, binding Silver to his bed before he went.

Malfoy manor was very different to any place he had been in before. He had half expected it to be lavish and marbled, like a roman bath or villa, but it was dark, secretive, and oppressive in atmosphere, with deep, lush carpets, dark décor and thick curtains over the infrequent windows. And there was not a wall without a portrait, not an antique side table without an antique atop it. What somewhat surprised Harry was the frequency of which an animal would appear on his travels. Currently he stood facing a tank filled, it seemed, with ash. However, a silver grey serpent had just finished laying a clutch of flaming red eggs, and eyed him dolefully before combusting. The eggs flamed furiously, and Harry could feel the heat from all the way across the corridor. Within a few minutes or frivolous burning, they hatched, and one by one grew to full silver size, and began circling the tank. Not out of want, but out of necessity, Harry had stayed watching them for quite some time, seeing what he perceived as the second generation begin to lay their eggs. He was hiding because he had heard muffled voices, doors opening and closing and the suchlike, just around the corner in the next corridor in the labyrinth of the guest's wing. When all was clear, he meekly bid goodbye to the Ashwinders, before dashing with catlike silence down the next corridor and to where he perceived the silence provided some safety.

Silver stirred on the blankets. Ron was nosing around the room. Silver proceeded to ignore him and attempted to escape to the quiet serenity of under the bed. His plot of foiled by his choker. Silver growled, wisps of blue smoke trickling from his nostrils, before crawling behind the pillows lest he be bothered by the ginger moron.

'Harry?' Ron asked the bathroom door in a stage whisper. Silver rolled his eyes. It was entirely obvious by the weakening of Harry's scent that he was not present in the immediate area. Silver nearly choked on his tongue and spluttered violently. Scent! Immediate area! What was he thinking! It was almost as if he…

'Hey, runt,' Ron said, peering behind the pillows. 'Have you seen-' His words were cut short by a shaft of flame piercing through the still air like a firework and singing his eyebrows as he recoiled. Like a sultry gecko fugitive, Silver crawled over the pillows, glared at him, and slunk to the end of the bed and up one of the four posters.

'Bloody pompous lizard,' Ron growled as Chudley bounded around the floor, chasing dust motes. Silver snorted at him, puffing professional smoke rings. As Ron ranted below, Silver spotted something he hadn't suspected.

_The breathing hole…_

He knew of force fields. He knew of their properties. However, he had not expected something made by the always perfect Hermione Granger to incorporate such a weakness as a breathing hole. The breathing hole, as it was often referred to, being a gap in the force field for emergencies, or, as the name suggested, a free flow of air. He wouldn't have noted it if he hadn't been able to sense the change of air consistency and scent. As Silver climbed out onto the top canopy, he felt the collar loosen. The moment Harry noticed what had happened, he'd be entrapped again. Silver narrowed his eyes. Now was the time to get out of the transmit range, if there was ever going to be such a time. Cautiously, avoiding Ron's gaze, and his wandering guard dog, Silver crept down the back of the bed, slithered behind the bedside table and scampered out of the door. He peered back in, smirking.

_Idiot._

Harry leaned heavily against the wall at the top of the stairs, sighing. This corridor was completely quiet, and almost all of the rooms had open doors. Empty. He slowly padded through the thick, deep emerald carpet. This corridor was far longer than any he had seen so far, and richer and grander, if it were possible. A long, vibrantly striped three headed snake ambled past, pausing only for one head to glare at him.

'It's mischief makers like you who give us a bad name,' said the head, before the whole creature slithered off.

'Thanks,' Harry muttered, before pressing on. A myriad of beautiful bedrooms, libraries and baths passed by, all open. The corridor bent away ahead of him. He looked behind him. Nothing had followed. He checked his watch. It wasn't even six am yet. Harry, sighing sleepily, turned the corner, before flying backwards in terror, and colliding with the wall with an almighty crack.

'OW!' Yelped the portrait above his head, now swinging, as Harry, glazed eyed, looked on in pure horror as two pairs of flaming blood eyes bored into his, and lips began to peel back in growls.

'Crap,' was all he could muster as a clawed forefoot hit the wooden floor between the stretches of carpet. The two chimeras couldn't have been bigger than great danes, but with every intake of breath they seemed to grow bigger, teeth becoming more and more visible and snarls deepened, crests being puffed up in defensive rage, claws exiting their sheaths and wings opening. One hissed violently, clumping forward on a solid hoof. Harry swallowed hard. Should he run and risk being chased and torn down? Should he stand still and accept his fate? Should he back away slowly and pray? Who the hell kept a chimera inside, anyway?

'My father,' said the portrait. It was only then that Harry realised he had spoken out loud.

'Don't you have a pendant?'

'What?' Harry whimpered as one chimera snapped. The portrait frowned.

'Of course, I and father don't need one, but mother carries one. They won't attack a pendant bearer.' The boy in the portrait sighed. 'Did you forget yours?'

'I don't have one,' Harry admitted, pressing himself against the wall, wishing it would swallow him and save him the nasty, flesh tearing sensation he was expecting. The boy snorted.

'Oh, you must be a trespasser then,' he said lightly. 'They'll kill you for that.'

'Thanks for the reminder,' Harry growled. 'But it's not helping.' The portrait huffed.

'It wasn't supposed to help,' he explained. 'Why on earth should I help a trespasser in my-' the portrait stopped and began wildly gesticulating. 'There it is! You didn't forget it! Silly serving boy!' Harry turned his head briefly from the slavering, vice like jaws to see where the boy in the portrait was pointing. He looked down, and sure enough, a gold chain hung out of his pocket limply. His eyes widened.

'Evelyn,' he whispered, before yanking it out and brandishing it like a holy cross. The Chimera froze, and seemed to shrink as they deflated themselves and their crests, and withdrew into themselves again. The one with forepaws whimpered and placed his tail firmly between his legs, whilst his female counterpart demurely stepped aside, teeth still bared a little. Harry glanced between the amulet and the beasts, somewhat confused. What exactly was this thing?

'You can go now, serving boy,' the painting drawled, brushing a strand of hair from it's eyes. Harry turned, expecting to see another Draco picture, but was surprised to see an unfamiliar face, with perhaps a slightly softer face. Harry read the inscription.

'Ignatious…' he pondered.

'A rarely used forename,' the portrait interjected hurriedly. 'You may go now, serving boy.' And despite the boy being only canvas, Harry allowed himself to be ushered past the silent, still creatures, who eerily watched him go, before assuming their posts, grumbling in some unknown bestial tongue to each other. Harry swore he could hear some traces of what to him sounded like human slang in their speech, between the snarls and hisses, but he later attributed it to either nervous delusion or parseltongue. When Harry had begun focusing on his surroundings (after checking his watch- now six fifteen), he noted a change in the decor. This corridor, though immaculate, was a lot darker than the rest. Also, it smelt... natural, less like air freshener and absence. This corridor, so heavily guarded and so remote was well used. Harry felt a little tickle of dread slither down his back like an icy worm. This must be the living area of Draco... and his parents. Harry swallowed a little. When he had woken up, he'd been adamant on adventuring off around the manor... but why? Did he really expect to find some proof that the Malfoy's needed to be locked away in some dark, dank hole and left there to rot for their ties to Voldemort? Had he suspected there to be some huge clue just... lying around. Embarrassed at himself, Harry admitted yes. Well, even at the heart of the mansion, all was quiet. Nothing seemed too unusual, especially for a wizards house. It was pre-wake up, dark, a few dim lanterns lit here and there, the occasional and generally dozing portraits and a dozen doors leading off to various rooms, each one shut against it's ornate framework. No statues, ornaments or animal tanks. No curtains, windows or alcoves. No where to hide. No where to escape. Harry's nostrils filled with a luxurious incense as he passed a burner, thinning the air, making his pulse race. He could hear maids around the corner, bustling to and fro, chatting in whispers. A loud sound of a clatter echoed from one of the rooms. The Chimeras turned, snarling, and Harry couldn't contain the whimper as he froze up, with no where to go.

Right. Left. Straight on. Dodge the maid. Right. Right. Up first set of steps, then left. Through portrait gallery. Silver's little clawed feet sunk to elbow height, and it waded vigorously through the thick fronds of carpet where it could not click along hard wood panelling. It's nostrils filtered the air for scents, whole body tensed and ready to flee for cover. It sighed heavily. What was the world coming to. It pinched it's eyes shut and tried to remember before... it's body did not respond. Again it tried, puffing at itself, straining at an invisible target. Silent feet padded down the corridor and stopped behind it. It's legs gave way and it panted, almost oblivious when a hand seized it's wings to it's body and lifted it up. Silver stiffened irritably, hissing, but did no more than that. It turned an eye to the grasper, before eliciting a shriek. A face peered down at it, pale, shadowed, troubled, with a mop a thick, coarse dark hair that looked weather beaten and blown. Dark rings rimmed the eyes, which were half shut, and, like a cat's eye, caught the light in a ghostly hollow way, reflecting back scarlet. A slender, underfed, poorly kept waif of a figure, that instigated pure horror and disgust in the tiny, writhing, screaming creature. Soulessly, without expression, the figure turned and walked to a tank containing a solitary, irritated looking doxy. The free hand of the figure unlocked the top and reached inside, clutching the doxy fearlessly as it bit into his flesh, tearing and poisoning. Silver had lost all his colour, and shivered in an ice cold grip as the doxy was drawn out, legs wriggling in powerless gesture. Silver noted with horror how ever poison filled bite ever so easily closed and healed cleanly and seamlessly, as if the almost translucent, unhealthy skin had never been cleaved. Silver groaned nauseously. The figure bent stiffly, as if his body needed oiling, and placed his face above the top of the globe like glass tank. He exhaled without inhaling, and clouds of noxious dust flew out. Silver averted his tiny head, wheezing and spluttering, avoiding the filth as best he could. The figure straightened up. Silver could feel his own pulse thudding, but not one to battle against it in the tight, icy grip. It unsettled him further and in one last protest he wailed, writhing and clawing. He deigned not to taste the inhuman flesh. The figure turned creakily to look down at the wriggling, irate doxy, before allowing his fingers to close ever so slightly tighter. The Doxy whined, wriggling, turning a slightly unhealthy colour, before appearing to flutter and feint, blue black gloopy liquid run with green sliding slick between the slender pale digits. The figure turned it's head. Silver defiantly dug in his claws, snarling. The figure's stoic face did not respond, but mechanically the arm raised Silver high over the bowl, before squeezing tightly. Silver moaned in agony, feeling joints crick, bones bruise, air leave his lungs and rubs refuse to draw more in, and even his eyes bug out a little at the internal pressure. He felt his body desperately falling limp, before a sudden gasp of air filled his lungs, only to be smashed out against cold, rancid smelling glass. Shakily, dizzily, he raised his head, eyeing through blurring and doubling vision the hand lowering from where it had relinquished it's grasp and dropped him. The face peered down soullessly, before the lid of the tank slid eerily and automatically back into place. Silver had not the strength to protest as the figure abandoned him there, and he sheathed his bloodstained claws and promptly passed out.

Whoever had knocked over whatever they had knocked over, did not exit the room. In fact, from the very same room he heard a sleepy groan and the sound of body hitting a slightly squeaky mattress. Back to the land of nod. Harry couldn't believe his luck. Neither could the now very disappointed Chimeras. He could see in their eyes that they knew he didn't belong there, but the amulet was his pass through, and without order, they were bound to leave him alone. Sighing, relaxing, he leaned back against the wall, before jumping away in fright at the shadow that crossed his form. He stared, tingling and bristling, before listening, irritated, to the self righteous and derogatory sniff and snort from either Chimeras as they eyed him. He could feel their smirks bearing down on his back. They were longing for his flesh, and he knew it. What had startled him was nothing more than a door knocker, casting eerie shadows in the half light from the lanterns. The knocker was at face height on the nearest and first door, but it hung down to the middle with ornamentation. Delicate runes were carved around the base plate, gold and silver enamelled leaves dipping and fluttering gracefully around the stagnant centre piece. Some sort of beast, lost between a frilled lizard, snake and dragon lay in this vertical nest, clawing to it with highly crafted feet, hammered into the base plate with heavy, crude yet obviously strong nails. Harry peered at it for some time, studying the intricate carving of each individual scale, the gloss sheen on the metal, and the perfect replication of the small features of the ornamental creature's face. Sighing, he turned away, hands in his pockets, scuffing the carpet with worn trainers.

'Phew,' came a soft, humming pant from behind him, and he whirled with terrible velocity, eyes flicking to and fro for the source. Everything was still and silent. Too silent. Slowly, calmly, he turned, clutching the locket carefully in his right hand. He began to pace in measured steps away from his previous spot, and when a very soft grating of metal met his ears, he surreptitiously shot a glance over his shoulder, which met secretly with the tiny stirrings of an irritated metallic lizard, trying to scratch it's itches.

'-wretched, bile choked braggart!' it snarled, it's tail twitching irritably, as it rubbed a slightly bulbous eye on it's scaly shoulder. Harry crept towards the knocker, slowly, but surely, before in a swift jab, snatching the tail into his grip. There was local pandemonium as the lizard yowled and hissed, lashing as best it could and shouting obscenities that reverberated down the corridor. The Chimeras turned, ears pricked, glaring with blood eyes at Harry.

'Shut up,' Harry hissed desperately. 'Someone'll hear!' The Lizard stopped writhing and laughed mirthlessly.

'That's a joke,' it hissed. 'There hasn't been a Malfoy parseltongue since Amadeus,' he broke off, bitterly, 'and I doubt there ever will be again.' Harry frowned.

'What exactly are you?' he asked quietly, aware of the oppressive silence. The Lizard eyed him cautiously.

'What the bloody hell does it look like I am?' he snapped back. 'I'm a doorknocker.' The Lizard moved it's impaled feet a little, flexing the claws in a pained sort of fashion.

'I can see that,' said Harry, after pausing to watch. 'But... what are you meant to be? Shapewise?' The Lizard glared at him through bronze eyes.

'I'm not supposed to be anything,' he growled. 'I'm Project Sixteen, the winged companion lizard. Suitable substitute for Owl and pet.' He paused in his recital to bear his teeth. 'Viciously loyal.'

'Project sixteen?' Harry repeated. 'Are you another of the illegal breeding projects here- like the chimeras.' The Lizard rolled it's eyes, wriggling.

'Let me straighten something out,' the lizard drawled. 'We weren't illegal in the sixteenth century,' he paused. 'And I'm nothing like the chimeras. They were One of Amadeus' later project... he hardly worked again after creating them, he was so proud. And then...'

'And then what?'

'Government raiders broke in, thinking he was planning some sort of revolution,' the lizard said bitterly. 'They beheaded him in his laboratory.'

'Oh,' Harry managed. The Lizard looked miserable.

'The chimeras did one thing right, though,' the Lizard said,' they broke out of their cages and defended him with all their might, and even after he'd... gone,' the lizard swallowed.

'They tore the rest of the attackers to shreds, and became guardians of the manor. They attacked anyone and everyone who didn't smell like Amadeus... anyone who wasn't a Malfoy, and more so, anyone who wasn't of his line of Malfoy.' The Lizard smirked.

'Myself and the other early projects, like the failed wadjet, we used to watch and make bets on how many the chimera's would bring down, whenever a group came into the grounds.'

'So why won't they attack amulet bearers?' Harry asked. The Lizard grinned.

'Amadeus's wife was a dark sorceress,' the Lizard hissed. 'She extracted all his blood, even that which had been spilt, even that which lay stagnant in his corpse... and contained it in that crystalline material.' Harry looked down uneasily.

'This is... blood?' he managed.

'Amadeus Malfoy's blood,' the Lizard hissed, mirthlessly grinning. 'Useful stuff, isn't it?'

There was the thud of footsteps around the corner.

The Chimera's ears pricked, but the continued glaring at Harry. Harry stared in that direction, blanching a little, before moving away from the door knocker, creeping down the corridor in search of an open door.

'Where are you going!' the Lizard stage whispered. 'Are you insane!'

'What?' Harry protested. The Lizard shook it's frills.

'You won't find any hiding places that way,' he snarled. 'From here on it's Lucius Malfoy's private suites. There aren't only chimera's guarding those...' Harry moved back towards the door.

'Well were else am I supposed to go?' he spluttered, the Lizard paused for a moment, before speaking. From this angle, Harry could seen that although the outside of the Lizard was brass, the inside of it's mouth was flesh, with creeping trickles of metal that had seeped past the lips. Harry felt a little sick.

'Smooth down my back fins,' the lizard hissed. 'Hurry!' Harry did as instructed, and the door swung inward. Harry smiled.

'Thanks,' he whispered. The Lizard nodded.

'Anything for a parseltongue. I haven't got many conversation partner's around here, you know.'

And with that, Harry entered the room, and a pair of glinting flaming eyes watched him. The Chimeras wilted backwards from the watcher, who exited a door about half way up the corridor. As the door Harry had entered snapped shut, the figure, clad in a night gown, padded noiselessly down the corridor. White lips pressed together a thin line as the figure studied the door knocker.

'Misbehave again,' said an icy, languid voice, like running a paddle through chill yet rich liquid chocolate, 'and you'll find brass in your lungs.'

'I look forward to it,' hissed the knocker, hatefully. The fiery amber orbs flashed and the lizard's confidence wilted a little. Perfect hands, hands of the ice queen's pianist, ran heated lines down the wood of the door, the point where the hinges seemed to call out in burning desire.

'What are you doing?' said a husky voice from a tired throat. The amber eyes turned to watch a dusky, darkened, shadow dweller pass unnoticed through the guard, eyes locked to his despite the obvious pain their luminescence caused.

'It is nothing,' silken threads of voice whispered. 'nothing for you to concern yourself with.' Balls of amber inferno narrowed. 'Where have you been?'

'Out,' the deeper, rougher voice replied, smearing oil slick blood between his fingers.

'And then in. I'm here now.'

'Now deliciously vague,' the nightgown clad companion mused. 'Did you enjoy the body in the grounds?'

'It wasn't really there when I arrived,' hollow black eyes replied. 'More like a gorey splatter and lumps of gristle in a patch of poison ivy.' There was a rough chuckle. 'Not even enough left for you, I'd merit.' His companion laughed, raising a hand to his chest.

'Oh, I had my fill,' he whispered, smirk playing on lily-petal lips. 'Delivered to me, no less.'

'How good for you,' his companion drawled back, before hissing at flame clashed painfully with hollow nothingness.

'Get to bed,' the soft, velveteen voice of the watcher commanded. 'Today is Saturday. You will need your rest for Sunday.' Growling a little, the figure, seemingly unseen by the snarling guards, moved stiffly past, casting fleeting, soft glances at the willowy figure he left behind. Alone once more, the watcher's fingertips trailed the door. As the figure entered his chamber, he felt the heat and desire of the very walls blast out their desperate cry to him. Knowing himself, he shut them out, and closed the door.

* * *

R+R? puppy eyes


	7. Chapter 7

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own a large quantity of manga and propelling pencil leads. Oh! And an Amazon account

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: Weird half smut XD you'll see what I mean._

A/N

This chapter is stupidly long. I think i might have waffled a bit. Tell me what you think/to shut up in your reviews please!

Thanks for your continued support!

* * *

'Pass the salt, would you?'

Lazily, Harry complied, as Ron dusted his perfectly crafted, neatly arranged breakfast plate in pepper, before adding the proffered salt and then mushing it into a big old breakfast pie, gummed together with ketchup, before forking out a sizable lump and stuffing it into his face.

'Not poisoned then,' Harry joked. Ron froze up a for a moment, before glaring at Harry and defiantly chewing. Harry smirked. Mrs Weasley waved at them from across the breakfast hall (all under eighteens were considered children, and were arranged, well spaced, on a long table to one side of the dining hall. Harry was a little disconcerted by the number of pale eyed, sneering, pointed faced children of various ages there were, casting him dirty looks before crinkling their nose at the garnishes.). She took her seat on a smaller table with Mister Weasley and a few other Ministry workers. Harry espied some of their children too, on their table. They looked at each other sympathetically. They didn't want to be here. Their parents had probably dragged them here because they couldn't find them a babysitter. It was quite clear from the disdainful look the Malfoy children gave them that they certainly weren't friends of this hierarchy of pale. Ron, having scoffed his mound of breakfast goods, was hunting for more.

'Is that all we get?' He hissed. 'That's a bit stingy. Malfoy's loaded. He can afford to do a buffet style breakfast.'

'Hah!' Said a young girl about three seats down from Ron. Her elder brother, possibly a year or two younger than Harry and Ron, chided her.

'Forgive Lillianne,' he said gently, but his eyes were cold. 'Where we live, only servants eat buffet style.'

'How darling,' Harry drawled, pushing beans around his plate. Ron promptly pinched one of his slices of toast. There was a snuffling as Ron shoved the toast into the waiting mouth of his podgy penndragonne, who wolfed it down as it were a mere crumb.

'Are you going to take that up for Silver?' Ron asked when Harry set his knife and fork together. Harry yawned.

'No,' he said, and Ron snatched the plate. Harry sighed and more food found it's way down Chudley's neck. 'I'll order something up to the room for him when we get back.'

'Back?' Ron said through a mouth of toast.

'Yes,' Harry droned. 'Back to the room. Silver's bound to the bed.' Ron raised an eyebrow.

'Really?'

'Yes,' Harry repeated irritably. 'You said you saw him in there when you came hunting for me. You know he's in there.'

'Yeah, he was,' Ron said quickly. 'But he wasn't when he left. I guessed you were giving the runt his space.' Harry's frown fell to worry.

'He had to have still been on the bed,' Harry said sharply. 'I bound him there. The bracelet works perfectly.' He raised his arm, bearing a blank, loose friendship band. His eyes bugged. 'What the...?'

'So you didn't let him off the bed?'

'Of course not!' Harry immediately regretted raising his voice. People had begun to look, and attracting attention bothered him a little. Especially when the gargoyle's eyes were following him so eerily. He growled.

'He can't have gone far,' Ron soothed. 'I mean, he doesn't do flying... and his legs are really, REALLY short. Just... finish breakfast... then we'll look for him, alright?' Harry nodded quietly, frowning. He swirled his tea, still black, staring dreamily into it's depths. The darkness of the liquid stirred a memory within him, and he sank into it easily…

'Thanks,' he whispered. The Lizard nodded.

'Anything for a parseltongue. I haven't got many conversation partner's around here, you know.' Harry smiled and swept inside the door, drawing it shut behind him. His ears and eyes immediately ached. It was a vacuum, devoid of light or sound, except for the thud of his heart beat and soft puffs of his breath. He frowned, stepping forwards. His bare feet padded soundlessly on solid, polished coolness. He moved his arms around him in the darkness. There was nothing within his reach. There was a tranquillity about the room that told him he was alone. His back seemed to burning, so he moved further forwards, shrugging off a shiver that threatened to cause more pleasure than discomfort. He rolled his shoulders, shrugging it off. Even away from the heat of the doorway, the room was warm, and it's scent brought with it no specific memory. However, it smelt light, clean, maybe a little sweet, maybe a little sharp. It was a... normal sort of smell, a live sort of smell, and Harry did not deny that he liked it. He shuffled a little. That warmth had been weird. The tingling in his groin was proof of that. Harry fought to ignore it, but it brought to his mind thought he generally reserved for private moments he spent with no one but his body. He groaned somewhat wantonly, before hurriedly pulling out his wand.

'Lumos,' he hissed. The Spell appeared to fail, much to Harry's surprise. However, a small glow emanated from behind him, illuminating just up to where we was standing.

'Useful,' he growled sarcastically. However, his eyes were adjusting, and through the murk he could see, a long way off, he could see a slight lessening in the darkness. He sighed.

'Abrio,' he whispered. The curtains, about twenty feet away, flew open. a shaft of moonlight illuminated the contents of the room. It must have been a bedchamber, due to the huge four poster that dominated this end of the are, about two metres away from Harry. There was a small bookcase, a chest, two doors leading off from the room to the left, and past the ornate and luxurious bed, a desk, some seemingly empty decorative tanks, something which looked somewhat like a venus flytrap, except that it was snoring and set of display shelves. The room was vastly long, ending at the huge French door windows, which opened onto a sumptuous stone balcony. The walls, which were mainly still in shadow, seemed bare, almost under dressed (this feeling was throughout the room, except for the bed), but bore a few portraits and mounted ornaments. The room seemed pale, bland, but lived in. Despite the quality of the contents, the room was so large, and so obviously used that it had a cell like quality which dug into Harry between his ribs. He suddenly gasped and fell forward onto his knees, his back scorching. He could hear the door creaking, but he wasn't interested in that.

'What the hell?' he groaned, his hands against the floor. There was no stimulus, nothing, but he felt torn open, laid bear... and aroused. In fact, more than aroused. He was straining against his trousers as the heat probed into his back, sending searing fingers of pleasure through his body. It felt wrong, it felt strange, but too damn good for him to resist. His breath came in short, sharp gasps. No one nor thing had ever effected him like this.

_Must be a booby trap_ Harry thought foggily, biting his lip and trying to fight it off. Shaking, he tried to move away, but tempting tendrils of warmth seemed to hold him back, encasing him, tenderly touching at him and igniting any passion he had ever contained. He couldn't help but cry out, fragmenting the silence of the room, which awoke the fly-trap, which snapped and grumbled irritably in the moonlight. He clawed at the floor, resting his head against it. It was agony, and pure pleasure. That whole side of the room seemed to be inflamed by this power, tearing to get at him, reaching inside him and drawing him out, but forbidding him defence by heightening that pleasure- that wild, unsustainable, dirty joy that had paralysed him to the spot. His scar, throbbing wildly, seemed to allow him to clear his head of the creeping heat, although he knew he was so close it was maddening. Fighting against his dominating crotch (a war that most men fight daily... and lose- Tasha), he crawled forwards, ever so gently. The heat was determined, clawing, begging, digging into him and drawing him gently back, set on milking him of whatever it was searching for... and perhaps a little more. However, Harry was determined too. Despite the frustration it caused him, he forced himself to kneel and crawled, whimpering, to the nearest door. The heat followed him, intrigued, captivated. Shakily, he took the doorknob in his hand, before jerking it open violently and falling into the next room. The heat suddenly stopped and Harry lay, uncomfortably on the tiles and on his arousal, out of it's reach. There was a strange sort of grumbling from the room he had just left, an angry red glow, before the heat seemed to stalk away, ebbing from the place completely.

When he awoke, the glow of morning illuminated the room, and the first call to breakfast was tolling. Harry figured he had at least another fifteen minutes in which to properly wake up, and reached out to pull his duvet back over him. However, his fingertips trailed across smooth tiles, not cotton, and his eyes flew open. He remembered what had happened, and was glad to note that his hard on had all but gone. However, without stimulus, is was bound to fade. Harry frowned. That had been the weirdest experience, EVER. He groaned and pushed himself up, examining his surroundings. The bathroom, en suite, was vast. A huge plunge pool of a bath, a shower room, large basin and vanity area, all white, swirling pearlescent and lavishly luxurious. The taps were gold, and large, ornate, possibly oriental fishes and sea dragons appeared to swim across the walls, pastel and ridiculously beautiful. The room was cool and pleasant in atmosphere, but without that smell Harry had noted. This room smelled even cleaner, lighter, perhaps a little piney, but closer to the bath, there was a sweetness. Harry turned to see some white jugs. He lifted one (the was pretty small) and inhaled. The mouth watering essence of vanilla assaulted him, and he couldn't help but smile and sigh. It was a good smell. All the jugs smelt of vanilla or other light, pale, sweet smells that Harry enjoyed. He felt much calmer, and his trousers were free entirely of embarrassing bulges. Harry examined himself in the mirror, sighing gently. He picked up the comb, examining it for a second, before arranging his hair a little. A ghostly figure appeared, clouding his reflection.

'You look awful,' it said, sneering, 'but I suppose that's as good as it gets with you.'

'M-m-m...' Harry staggered back, touching his face. The ghost mirrored him, before laughing callously, it's voice echoing eerily.

'Malfoy?' Harry managed to spit. The ghostly formation sighed.

'I wish,' it said lightly. 'I'm just an imitation of perfection.' It looked downcast, pixie features glimmering strangely. 'I help the original. The maids have a habit of rearranging his bedchambers.'

'This is Malfoy's bedroom!' Harry managed. He was shocked. It was lavish, yes, but not much more so than his room. He had expected something... hideously over dressed. Kind of like the original really. The ghost looked furious.

'His name is Draco,' it said bluntly. 'Moron.' And with that it faded sulkily back into obscurity. Harry sighed. It was like talking to wall, which was ironic since a) he was and b) talking to Malfoy generally was equally as fruitless. Harry exited the bathroom quickly, ignoring a mermaid who waved at him coyly from the door, before crossing the room to the door. The second bell had just begun to toll. He tapped the door gently.

'Is it safe come out?' He hissed. The doorknob's head appeared through the wood. It looked a little dull.

'Yes,' it said quietly. 'It has been for some time. No maids will be in this part of the house at this time either. Go, while you can.' Harry nodded a thank you as the head disappeared. He cast one look back across the room, his nose filled with the soft, welcoming scent of Malfoy's existence, before hurriedly exiting. The doorknob was entirely stationary.

'I'll come and visit you,' Harry said quietly. 'Maybe... tomorrow?'

'No!' The doorknob hissed. 'You mustn't come up here tomorrow.' It frowned. 'Tonight?'

'Alright,' Harry agreed, petting it's cold skin, before rushing down the corridor, the hairs on the back of his neck on end. The Chimeras let him pass sulkily, and he broke into a jog, escaping the private wing as quickly and quietly as he could…

'UWAAA!' A voice cried out, but it was the divine combination between that and icy cold water soaking his lower half that drew Harry back from his reminiscing. He yelped and leapt up, but was glad of the water. It's icy cold had subdued a stirring in him, which had been reawakened by the mere memory of the heat. A main lay flat on her face, tray and jug rocking on the floor.

'Here,' Harry hurriedly said, helping her up.

'I am so sorry, young master!' She said desperately. There was something in her face that told him she wasn't used to this. Harry smiled.

'It's alright,' he said lightly. 'Ropus Sequia.' The water vanished from his trousers in a puff

of steam.

'Wow,' the girl managed, before blushing terribly, and sharply apologising again. She gathered up the tray and jug and dashed off back into the kitchens. Two waiters laughed at her as she passed, and one went to kick her, but missed. Harry frowned.

'You alright, Harry?' Ron asked, crossing around to Harry's side of the table.

'Yeah,' he said quietly, putting his wand away. Silver's disappearance weighed heavily on his mind. There were worse things than juvenile chimeras wandering the halls, and they were bad enough.

'Come on,' Ron said, stretching. 'Mum and Dad said something about visiting the village.'

'I'm not really a touristy type of person,' Harry said as Ron walked off. Ron turned back. Harry smiled weakly. 'I might go and look for Silver. Like you said, he can't have gone far. Besides... I have way to much homework to be slacking off all day.'

'When did you turn into the model student?' Ron joked, dragging him out into the large entrance reception room. 'They say there's a branch of Honeydukes down here! And a Zonko's outlet! And Dad said something about Muggle history... I think he's got his heart set on visiting Stonehenge.' Harry reached into his pocket and drew out a galleon.

'Buy me as much as you can with that,' he said firmly, 'and I'll let you copy any essays you want for the next month.' His eyes locked with Ron's, and finally, Ron gave in.

'Alright,' he said. 'If you wanna stay in the creepy manor of count Dracula, then be my guest. I'll bring some good stuff and we'll go snooping later.' Harry laughed and shoved Ron towards his parents, waving.

'Not so loud,' he laughed, 'Or we'll never pass as Scooby-Doo wannabes!'

'Scooby Doo?'

Silver bayed miserably, clawing at the glass that cocooned him. The noxious fumes were stirred up by the slightest movement. Damn his smallness. Silver cursed himself. With these tiny lungs, the poison affected him more and more with each passing second. And the maids... they just passed by, paying no notice. He was just another exhibit. Why didn't they notice him? They knew him! He was special! He mattered! Silver bared his teeth, wheezing and hissing. The tightening of his chest worried him. it worried him a lot. If someone didn't come...

Tap Tap Tap.

Silver turned his head light a whip crack to the sound of a fingertip pressing against the glass. His eyes met with the owner of the finger, and he screamed, backing away in horror. The eyes were on him, cool, calm, but curious. Suddenly, the expression changed, and then again, before a smirk spread across a pallid face. The finger continued it's earth shaking tapping, the glass boiling red whenever the finger touched down. Silver whined in protest, feeling his whole being submit, and watching helpless as he slipped into delirium, and hand reached down to claim him.

Malfoy Manor was a whole new building by day. Harry, a little cautious of the castle's interior, and assured by the staff that he was free to walk the grounds, had ventured outside. The building was white and cream- some sort of stone which Harry couldn't identify offhand, and seemed from the outside to be chateaux like in design, with a large manor house style, two tower like wings and a simple elegance that reeked of a continental influence. The gardens were manicured, unused and generally opulent. There were herb gardens, medicinal gardens, flower gardens, orchards, croquet lawns, a large field (somewhat overgrown) which could have been a quidditch practise pitch (for once in his life, Harry felt a pang of jealously aimed at Malfoy) and a topiary garden full of living topiaries which bickered loudly unless silenced by Spells or passing beasts of a higher ilk. Harry was glad, despite the pendant of blood, to see few Chimera about the place. He vaguely spotted someone he thought was Lucius Malfoy with one at his side, but he was outside the building, so discredited that thought immediately. As he left the immediate grounds, however, Harry was greeted with sight of not just one or two, but nearly a hundred, penned, stamping, glaring, noses filtering air for blood. Harry swallowed hard. Next to the pens and paddocked, which were overcrowded and guarded by pendant wearing men, wands at the ready, was a large, beautiful building with a rustic clock tower. He heard snorting from inside. A stables. Men he recognised vaguely as footmen and drivers were milling around, hefting saddles and harnesses, calling to each other.

'Oi, Martyn!' A voice shouted. 'Get off your fat arse and do some work!' The voice was promptly joined by another.

'Yeah!' It chided. 'These saddles aren't going to polish themselves, you lazy git!' Harry wandered closer, to espy the footman who had been with him, Ron and Mr Weasley the night before, ambling out of the building to set up, soap and cloth in hand. About four saddles were promptly dumped in front of him. He sighed heavily and got diligently to work, but he was clearly troubled.

'You alright?' Harry asked lightly. The young man, who appeared to be called Martyn raised his head, before smiling a little.

'Been better,' he said softly, before getting back to work. Harry frowned.

'Need a hand?' he asked. If anyone would know about a missing magical creature, it would be someone who worked with them. Martyn seemed relieved, and quickly handed him the polish and cloth, pulling out another set for himself. Harry settled himself down the box next to Martyn and started work slowly.

'Rub in small circles with two fingers,' Martyn offered. 'they're already clean. We just need 'em shiny for the hunt this afternoon.' Harry nodded and got to work.

'So this is where you work?' Harry asked vaguely. Martyn nodded.

'Over the summer only,' he replied. 'I'm a distant relative, but that doesn't mean our family is rich. I need the money, more than anything else.' He smiled. 'I'm at a Wizardry University in Central Europe.'

'Cool,' Harry managed. 'What are you studying.' Martyn sighed.

'Bits and bobs. Magical Beast Care... history... a whole lot of different courses.' He smiled weakly. 'Evelyn chose a different course to me. I've always... followed him a bit, so I picked up lots of courses he's on. I like them a lot more than the ones I picked.' He sighed and finished a saddle, setting it on box to be carried inside. Harry frowned.

'Evelyn,' he muttered, before pulling out the pendant. 'He lent this to me. Do you know where he is? He probably needs it back...' Harry trailed off a little when he noted the look on Martyn's face. His pale features had blanched. He raised a powerless hand to touch at the pendant, before shying back.

'W-wh...' he tried. 'When did he give that to you?' Harry frowned.

'Yesterday evening,' Harry replied lightly. 'I want to give it back... and ask about something-' Martyn snatched back his polish and cloth, eyes cold and hard.

'Scram,' he hissed. He looked murderous. Harry tentatively got up.

'What...' he began. 'What did I do?' Martyn snatched up the saddles and stormed off. A boy who'd been polishing nearby sidled over.

'Evelyn's gone missing,' he whispered. Harry's eyes widened. 'All we know is that he took you to the manor last night, and left again.' He swallowed. 'No one has seen him since.' Harry examined the pendant in his hand. The boy wore a similar one. Red glowed around the necks of all the stable hands. It sickened Harry that in an act of kindness towards him, one of them was now bare necked... and lost.

Harry didn't return the pendant. Nor did he ask about Silver. Instead, he left it on a hook where he saw a few others hung and hurried back to the house, up to his room and locked himself in. He lay on the bed, staring at the canopy, and did not stir until Ron disturbed him two hours later.

'Are we going on the hunt or not?' Ron sighed, rubbing his stomach and putting aside yet another bar of Honeyduke's finest.

'What are your parents doing?' Harry enquired.

'They're going,' Ron affirmed. 'Spending time with a few acquaintances they haven't seen in a while, they said.' He sighed. 'I'm not sure I'm up for watching poor defenceless animals getting torn to shreds. Riding a Chimera could be pretty fun, though.' Harry looked out of the window, watching people mill about on the lawn, petting crups and chattering about each other's children.

'You go,' Harry insisted. 'I should be looking for Silver.'

'Did you try just calling him?' Ron asked. Harry nodded.

'The bracelets gone dead,' he explained in a defeatist tone. 'That either means it's packed up, he's out of reach or...' There was a pause broken by Chudely crooning and scampering up into Ron's lap after espying his own reflection on one of the polished brass feet of the dresser. Ron sighed.

'Well... you could try being positive,' Ron mused. Harry raised an eyebrow. 'You've still got Evelyn's necklace, right? You can explore and avoid the chimeras with that.'

'Nah, I gave it back.' He didn't feel like disclosing Evelyn's current M.I.A status to Ron right now. Ron mouthed an Oh.

'Well, you'd better come on the hunt then.' Ron hopped off the bed and to his feet, before tottering. 'Cor...' Chudley whistled, chewing on Ron's black shirt. Harry sat up.

'Why?' he asked, his curiosity aroused. Ron smirked, tapping his nose.

'Well, you said to do some detective work,' he grinned. 'I overheard that weedy footman talking to one of the servants when we got back. He sounded pretty grumpy about having to hand out amulets to every guest who goes on the hunt, due to the temperament of the chimeras today.' Harry's eyes locked with Ron's, and they both grinned.

'I suppose we do get to ride chimeras...' he mused.

'And Silver's tough enough and ugly enough to look after himself for a bit longer,' Ron affirmed as Harry hauled himself up, groaning. 'Who knows? With everyone out, the little rat might crawl out of hiding.'

'Ha ha,' Harry laughed mirthlessly, chucking Ron on the shoulder. 'Alright... so long as we don't have to eat lunch...'

'Maybe a drink though...'

'Yeah.'

'And some roughage... cor...'

'Have you all ridden something before?'

'Does a broom count?' Harry asked Ron nervously. Ron nodded, equally fearful.

'Dad said it would be OK. Said it was the same principle, except fatter.' Harry and Ron exchanged glances as simultaneous images of obese broomsticks crossed their minds, and they suppressed giggles. They were organised and sent forward towards several stablehands, clutching bunches of pendants of various designs. Some looked fuller than others, or more beaten up than others. Ron, who was the queue next to Harry's, got one that appeared to have a deep, eerie claw gash in it. When Harry stepped up for his, he was less than appeased to come face to face with a very stressed looking Martyn Crabtree. Martyn, on spotting Harry, looked equally unappeased.

'Hi,' Harry managed. Martyn frowned, before closing Harry's hand around his pendant.

'Give it back yourself,' he hissed, before beckoning the next person on blandly. When Harry opened his hand, his eyes widened. Inside was a thin, spiral like glass pendant, half filled with the jostling scarlet liquid. However, there were two cords. The other linked to the engraved silver mounted oval that Harry had been wearing just hours before. Evelyn's pendant. Harry slipped them both on.

'OK,' he agreed quietly, before jogging up to Ron as they were directed towards the huge corrals.

* * *

A/N

Sequia- Sequear to dry. Seca is arid and Sequia, literally, is drought.

Abrio- Abrir to open

Ropus- Ropa Clothes


	8. Chapter 8

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I own a holdall. Want to try it out? evil grin

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: None._

A/N

CHAPTER 8! And I still haven't got much smut in! I promise, guys, soon! Very, very soon! This weekend at the Malfoys will set everything in motion. Ok, **CHAPTER 10 is going to be the uber Lucius Malfoy and his minions smut I promised**. Apart from cries of 'it's twisted and wrong!' I have had nothing but praise from my betas. I hope you will enjoy it.

This chapter is just me breaking up what was one stupidly long chapter into two at a relatively appropriate point. This chapter focuses on the hunt, where Parseltongue does Harry another favour...

* * *

Under eighteens, i.e. children, were all clumped together. There was a some sort of order to this. The under 12s were grouped a little further off, and the adults were all being arranged on build. Harry and Ron stood together, examining the others in there group. They generally all looked to be Malfoys, disdainful and cocky, strapping on dragon hide gloves and discussing the pegasi they kept at home and the herds of unicorns that frequented their properties. However, one boy, who looked more their age, who was adjusting suede gloves, and was wearing a pair of fitted coarse trousers rather than jodphurs, and a loose off white out-of-fashion shirt rather than a top quality riding jacket and cravat. Harry was pondering talking to the boy, who had ash blonde hair which brushed his shoulders, when a boy, no more than thirteen, and of the Malfoy condition, sauntered over.

'I'm so glad guests outside the family are allowed to compete,' he sneered. 'It gets so drab thrashing ones siblings repeatedly.' Harry and Ron exchanged looks.

'It's not really a competition,' Ron managed. The boy gave him a piercing glare up his irritating small, yet straight nose.

'I don't recall asking your opinion of the proceedings, peasant,' the boy drawled, eying Ron's red hair. Harry elbowed Ron as if to remind him that the brat was skirting five foot and looked about as robust as a trifle when he saw his friend stiffen up.

'Never mind, eh?' Harry sighed, trying peace-keep. The boy's older sister (she looked about fifteen) sauntered up and tapped him on the head.

'Please ignore him,' she growled, shooing him away. 'He's just irritated because I threatened that they were going to give him a donkey instead of a chimera.' She smiled, fluttering her eyelashes, particularly at Harry, which made Ron stifle a snicker with coughing. 'Constance Harbridge-Malfoy. A pleasure.' Harry nodded.

'Nice to meet you,' Harry said genially. The girl's smile broadened, her eyes glittering maliciously.

'Of course, you need no introductions,' she said sweetly. Harry felt his hackles rising, but ignored them.

'Hmm,' he managed to reply tersely. She smirked. The boy with the dirty blonde hair sighed, strapping something to his thigh. It looked like a water flask. The girl shot him a dirty look. Harry was the one to sigh this time, and her dirty look, for a second time, fell on an uncaring figure. She stomped off back to her siblings, shooting foul glares at the pair of them, whilst ignoring Ron entirely. Harry was about to speak to the other boy when he suddenly walked forward through the crowd and swung himself up on the back of something Harry couldn't see. When it trotted in very arrogant and agitated circles out of the crowd, Harry saw it to be a Pegasus, sleek roan, with it's large red-brown wings beating pointlessly and scattering feathers. It's flight feathers were brutally clipped. In one gloves hand the boy held the reins of the startled beast, and in the other, leashes attached to five other beasts of various and possibly inbred description. Any wings had been crippled. Harry felt a little ill as the boy booted the pegasus in the sides and it shot off, dragging the other animals behind it, trying to keep up as they ran into the woods.

'Come on,' said a man nearby, grabbing him and Ron back from their gawping to lead them over towards the corrals. Harry and Ron were aware of deep, bloody eyes gazing at them, a mixture of curiosity and hunger. Harry was examining, when a pair of strong hands gripped his waist and hefted him onto a block. He cried out in surprise, his hands falling forwards and connecting with soft hide. The chimera barked in a creepy tritone protest.

'Careful, boy,' said the large man who had hefted him. 'Now, foot in right stirrup...' Harry complied and was shoved onto the beasts back. He saw that Ron was getting the same treatment nearby, looking equally terrified. Once seated in the large, comfortable saddle, Harry took time to look over the beast. It was a deep bluish black, with a stormy grey muzzle and tufty hair along it's neck, interspersed with bony crests.

'Steer with the reins,' the man told him vaguely. 'Vocally command them otherwise. They're pretty smart.' Harry nodded meekly, before feeling a jolt as Ron poorly steered his chimera. Harry's chimera puffed out and bayed, before eyeing the other. The beasts (Ron's was a dappled gold) looked at each other before baying and chattering away in some dialect.

'Are you gonna follow the hunt?' Ron asked. Harry shook his head. Ron agreed. 'Me neither. Like I need to watch some poor defenceless pegasus getting torn up.' Harry pointed to the woods.

'We could just go for a wander. When else are we gonna get a chance like this?'

'Good point,' Ron agreed. The Chimeras eyed each other knowingly.

Of course, riding a chimera proved to be far less simple than riding a broomstick. As Ron has so eloquently suggested earlier, they were, for a start, a lot wider. Also, they got snappy if you kicked them, and there was no broom handle to yank yourself around by, only the leather reins. And it turned out the two chimera Ron and Harry were riding did not approve of people trying to control them. They did not approve at all. In fact, they would start attacking each other, or their opposite rider's legs if the reins were even held to tightly. In this way, Harry and Ron had ended up stuck at the back of the hunt as the huge lead beasts set the pace, snorting in the scents of the ground. Harry didn't deny it was a new, almost fun experience, but he had wanted to go exploring the grounds. Suddenly, the two chimera stopped. Ron jolted forward onto the neck of his, and it barked irritably. Ron reverently apologised.

'What's going on?' he asked Harry. Harry shrugged. The chimeras stood, watching the group move away, before grinning and muttering to each other. They both turned their heads to look at Harry, before snorting to each other, turning on their heels and breaking into a run away from the group.

'Wah!' Harry exclaimed, clinging on, helpless. Ron tried to pull his Chimera up.

'Stop stop!' He cried, but it fell on deaf ears. The Chimeras kept shooting each other meaningful glances, before bursting forwards even faster.

'Slow down!' Harry tried in earnest, but the Chimera's brayed to each other, bounding through the dense underbrush of the woodlands, dodging slim pale tree trunks, leaping ditches and springing to higher banks, pushing higher, faster and faster, Harry had pressed himself to his beast's neck, clinging as tightly as he could, trying to ignore the knocks his knees and back took from branches and passing trees. Ron's cries of pain quickly stopped as he too bound himself to the beast's back. The whole world seemed to be a pinched-shut world of blackness, punctuated with the whizzing wind, snap of branches, thunder of feet on loam and the occasional rattle of a bird's call or the whir of wings. The chimera Harry rode smelt like life, rich and grassy, and it's plunging shoulders began to lurch more violently, before coming to a heavily stillness. The whizzing had stopped. Harry could feel the burn of dappled sunlight on his back, hear small birds chattering enough, and the gentle breeze causing a creak to the branches. This soft melody was given rhythm by the heaving breaths of the Chimera, and suddenly syncopated by bracken crackling and thudding feet drawing to a stop close by. It was now that Harry dared to open his eyes. He sat up instantaneously. The Chimeras were both staring straight ahead, out from this cleared plateaux across the valley, over the village, the manor and the grounds. The horns of the hunts played in the distance. Ron whimpered nearby as his Chimera moved off, walking towards a well that populated the grassy space, dipping it's snout into the water. Something hissed inside, but was ignored.

'Ron, you alright?' Harry asked, guilty for breaking the quiet. Ron opened his eyes meekly, before sitting up.

'Sort of,' he managed dryly. Harry's Chimera shook itself and Harry was nearly thrown from it. Ron managed to laugh. They looked at each other, smiling.

'Well that was different,' Ron gasped. Harry nodded.

'Definitely not trading in my broom just yet,' he joked. Ron's Chimera padded back towards Harry's. The pair looked at each other, mumbling, before glaring into the surrounding trees.

'What do you reckon they're on about?' Ron pondered. His Chimera's head shot up suddenly, and fixed Harry with it's rich auburn eyes.

'Off,' it said, quite plainly. Harry choked.

'Excuse me!' He managed. Ron frowned.

'What's it hissing at you for?' He wondered, before tossing his reins. 'Knock it off, you!' The Chimera turned and barked at Ron, who desisted, before fixing it's eyes on Harry again.

'You understand?' it asked, using a heavily accented voice. Harry nodded meekly. The Chimera frowned.

'Then,' it paused. 'Off!' Harry swallowed hard.

'Are you hearing this Ron!' he breathed.

'Hearing what?' Ron asked, dejectedly. Harry frowned, before looking at the Chimera. It snorted, crinkling a dished nose.

'Off!' It insisted. Something clicked, and Harry stared at the Chimera's swishing tail, allowing it in his mind to morph into and arrow headed, flickering tongued entity.

'You speak parseltongue?' He finally hissed.

'Harry, you're hissing!' Ron complained, before something appeared to click in his mind. He mouthed an 'oh' and sat on the Chimera's back quietly. The Chimera eyed Harry cautiously.

'Do you?' it finally responded. Harry smirked.

'Yes.'

'Good. You parseltongue. You understand. You off.' The other chimera turned it's head, nudging Harry's leg with it's nose. The pale chimera looked at it's now grumbling counterpart, before eyeing Harry again.

'Thron say "human small", but still, off please.'

'What are they saying?' Ron said meekly.

'I think they want us to get off,' Harry responded.

'What? You're still hissing!'

'Wah! Sorry,' Harry managed, his vocal chords switching back. 'They want us to get off.' Harry looked at the golden Chimera. It appeared to smile and nodded. Gently, Harry slipped his legs free from their holsters and swung around and off, collapsing onto the floor. His dark Chimera, who apparently was called 'Thron', gazed at him in what Harry took to be a patronising fashion. Ron was still trying to get his holster buckles undone. His Chimera, who was smaller boned, hissed hatefully.

'Human heavy,' it complained. 'Off now please!'

'Hurry up,' Harry insisted, helping Ron with the lower buckles, before hauling him off the Chimera. They both fell onto the floor. The small chimera shook itself off, puffing bird call like noises and stamping. Harry and Ron scrambled to their feet. Thron nudged his smaller counterpart and mumbled something. The golden chimera nodded.

'Thron say "Humans sit"...' it fumbled for a word. 'Near water. Sit, please.'

'It's days like this when I wish I was a snake...' Ron groaned.

'We need to sit down,' Harry translated. 'On those little benches by the well.'

'You don't think they're gonna try and eat us...'

'They can't,' Harry said quickly, near dragging Ron over. 'We've got pendants on, remember?' The boys settled quickly, resting against the cool, thick green moss that coated the benches and the well. After a brief muttered discussion, Thron and his smaller friend turned and padded slowly towards the boys, before lying down a couple of metres away, in a similar fashion to that of a dog. There was a foreboding, awkward silence as the chimeras eyed Harry with curiosity.

'Erm...' Harry paused, imagining a snake in his head. 'Why did you bring us here?' The golden Chimera frowned.

'Rude,' it snapped. 'Speak name. We speak name. Then... speaking.' Harry sighed.

'Harry,' he explained. 'I'm Harry, and this is Ron.' Thron bowed his head a little. The smaller Chimera growled.

'This Thron,' it said warily. 'And I... Ferris.'

'Nice to meet you.' Ferris frowned at him. Harry quickly translated for Ron.

'Thron and Ferris,' Ron mused. 'Did they say why we're here yet?' Harry shook his head.

'Erm... Ferris?'

'My name. Yes.'

'Ferris... why did you bring us here?' Ferris pondered this for a second, nudging Thron and asking something, before turning back to Harry.

'Thron want speak you,' it said. 'He has... brother. Small brother. He see you. He say you speak parseltongue to lizard. He say you parseltongue.' Ferris paused. 'Thron curious.'

'So why did you come along? And why did you bring Ron?' Ferris sighed.

'Thron no parseltongue. Ferris speak parseltongue. Ferris help.' The Chimera snorted.

'Heavy boy on Ferris. He come. I... not like. I not strong.' Thron chuckled something, nudging Ferris. 'Thron say Ferris weak. Thron say he has question for parseltongue boy.'

'What's going on?' Ron hissed.

'They want to ask me something,' Harry muttered, before focusing on the snaky image in his mind.

'Ask away.' Thron suddenly went into a spiel of grunts and growls, hissings and barks, leaving the smaller, daintier Ferris looking bewildered.

'Thron say...' it paused. 'Thron say you are parseltongue. He say you speak and understand. He also say lizard like you. Lizard is clever. Lizard knows much. We trust lizard well. If he like you, we like you. Thron say this great... honour... for parseltongue boy.'

'I am honoured,' Harry managed. Everything was just a little too surreal for him. Ferris continued.

'Thron... Thron say he ask you question.' Ferris paused. Thron growled at his translator, and it hurriedly continued. 'He want know if you help him.'

'Help him do what?' Harry pursued. Ferris looked around warily.

'Go away,' it hissed. Harry frowned.

'I don't understand,' he whispered. Ferris sighed.

'Parseltongue... hard. I try.' The chimera composed itself. 'Malfoy keep chimera. Keep many... but kill many. When small... fur good. When older... hard to get fur.' Ferris almost dared Harry to laugh. He declined. 'Head Malfoy, we no like. No chimera like him. He... not like Lord Maker. Son is better, but gone. Now, only Head Malfoy. We no like. Thron hate him. Ferris... I not meet him.' Thron chewed at an itch on his muscular leg. 'Thron want go away. Want come back when Head Malfoy dead. Ferris... I want go with Thron. Thron want go... for Ferris... Ferris baby. Ferris is new mate of Thron.' Ferris looked a little flustered. 'I have no baby yet. No baby at all. Thron baby is first baby. Thron worried for Ferris and baby. Ferris is weak. Ferris is small. Baby is big maybe. Thron want go Dragon keeper. Romania he want go. Raise baby... away.' Ferris looked strained.

'Thron wants to take you and your unborn child away to raise it, so Lucius Malfoy can't have it.'

'Yes,' Ferris sighed, slumping a little. 'To Dragon keeper. Look like heavy boy. Dragon keeper.'

'Ron,' Harry hissed. 'They want to go and see Charlie!'

'Whaaa?' Ron managed. He had been dozing. The hissing was oddly therapeutic.

'What can we do?' Harry asked. Ferris snorted.

'We trade,' she said firmly. 'You take tack from Ferris and Thron. Ferris and Thron go free.' She frowned. 'What want you?'

'In return?' Harry asked. Thron heaved himself to his feet, eyes on the sky as a hawk flew overhead.

'Yes,' Ferris said clearly. 'In riitern.' Harry smiled a little as she tried to pronounce the word.

'I... don't know,' Harry managed. 'Nothing I guess.'

'Must be something,' Ferris snarled. 'No trade if nothing.' Harry sat perplexed for a few moments, before Thron cut in, muttering. Ron was whistling in a petulant sort of way, watching faint clouds scudder across the autumnal crisp sky. Harry felt vaguely guilty. This was almost sort of like a holiday he was spending with Ron and his family... behind enemy lines... but either way, speaking parseltongue always got his friend's back up, and this extended conversation appeared to get to him.

'They're trying to escape,' Harry said softly as Ferris got to her feet, shaking herself off.

'Why?' Ron answered after finishing the tune he had been whistling.

'The one you were riding, Ferris. She's pregnant, and the bigger one, Thorn is trying to take her away to a safe place. He doesn't trust Malfoy.'

'Funny, since he's their master,' Ron shot back somewhat darkly. Harry frowned.

'They want to go and stay with Charlie. In Romania. If we set them free, they say they'll trade that for something...'

'What?'

'Whatever we want, I guess.'

'Thron say "Parseltongue boy lose small dragon." This true?' Ferris' interruption caught Harry off guard.

'What did she say?' Harry hissed something, before switching back.

'She... she asked about Silver!'

'How could she know about that!'

'Thron say nephew in house see you speak to lizard. Nephew see and hear much in house.'

'You know where Silver is!' Harry hissed. Ferris snorted.

'Maybe Thron knows. Maybe... you take tack and we go, and Thron tell you. Trade.' Harry eyed her suspiciously. Ron sighed.

'They want to be let go in return for information about the midget, right?' he drawled. Harry nodded. Ferris looked taken aback.

'Heavy boy speak parseltongue?' She asked incredulously. Harry laughed.

'No,' he chuckled. 'He's just guessing. You speak English, though?'

'Understand. Not speak. Even Thron understand.' Ron sighed.

'I say do it. Better than having you sulking all weekend.' Harry elbowed him. Ferris' eyes sparkled a little.

'We trade?' She asked. Harry got up.

'Ron, help me.' Ron complied. The boys got up and began fiddling with catches on the saddles. Ron hefted at Thron's saddle.

'This thing must be welded on!' He grumbled. Thron nudged him and Ron flinched. Thron grumbled, eyes a hazel sort of brown.

'Thron say to heavy boy,' Ferris began, laughing. '"Humans not taste good. Thron not eat Heavy boy. Thron very grateful for taking tack away."' Harry opened his mouth to translate, but noted that Ron was laughing, patting the large dark beast's neck.

'Don't worry,' Ron said, 'I get it.' The boy hurried on with their task as best they could, Ferris and Thron both offering encouragement, and Ferris advice.

'Pull left tab hard... not so hard!' The saddle clamped a little harder.

'Wrong tab...' Harry apologised meekly as the pregnant female stamped angrily. There was a loud thump followed by a gleeful bark as Thron saddle fell like a sack of lead from his back and thundered into the floor, scattering a flock of fairies that had descended into a flower patch. The buzzed, irritably, away, and a thin, luminescent scaly head snapped out of the well, snapping up a few as they went past. Ron shuddered.

'Oi, you could have warned us about that when we sitting next to it!' He said pointedly to Ferris. She snorted.

'Tell boy that he not worth wyvern's time to chew,' she ordered. Harry undid the final buckle and tried to life the saddle off.

'I'll... pass,' he said lightly. Ferris leant to one side and the saddle pounded into the floor with an ominous thud. Harry could see a few patches where her light hair nearly gave way to her pale skin where the heavy thing had rubbed. She looked almost frail without it bulking her up, and despite the bump where her calf lurked, she was painfully thin.

'Malfoy's a jerk,' Harry growled. Ron snorted.

'You don't say...' he joked. Harry rummaged in his pocket.

'Did you bring any of the chocolate with you?' He asked after going through one and coming up short.

'Why?' Ron asked, tangling himself up in the complex double bridle Thron was stuck with.

'Never mind,' Harry unfurled the half eaten, slightly soft bar he'd stashed, before quickly unfurling the packaging and proffering it to Ferris.

'Eat,' he said forcefully. She turned her head away.

'Not pet,' she growled. 'Not out of hands I eat.' Harry sighed and bent down to put it on the floor. Ferris knocked him with her foot.

'Not with bridle. Take away... then Ferris eat happily.' Harry sighed and pressed on with his task. Ferris and Thron's bridles were different, hers being smaller and perhaps less complex, but Harry, who had never dealt with something like this before struggled to say the east. The bridle had studs, the bit barbs, and by the time he felt half way done his hands were scratched raw. Ron seemed to be faring a little better, and Thron seemed more easy going and accommodating. Ferris was stressed out and sensitive and, of course, kept offering Harry tips and commands which made him tense.

'You pull tighter!' She complained. 'Unclip, then let go... wrong clip... what is boy doing?... Left!... No... Right!... No!...' Harry sighed, trying to be patient. Thron barked behind him as Ron finally slipped off the last of the bridle, quickly undoing the neck strap.

'How did you do it!' Harry whined. Ron flushed a little.

'I live on a farm, remember?' Thron shook himself off and suddenly started trotting around, as if testing his freedom. He looked like an excitable puppy, but as if he had been inflated to twice his size, his deep chest filled with air, his eyes bright and fiery, his coat glossed and his stamina rejuvenated. Harry some how doubted the same transformation would take place when he finally got this wretched thing of the irritable chimera's face. He could see in her eyes that if it wasn't for the two chains around his neck, she'd have mauled him by now. Ron stepped over.

'Just undo those buckles and lift it off,' he instructed. Harry felt a bit stupid, but after doing as he was told, untangling a few things, and lifting very slowly and carefully, the bit dropped through Ferris' unnervingly sharp teeth. She chewed the emptiness in her mouth for a few moments, before shaking herself off. She seemed, a bit wilder, her tufted mane now in disarray, flopping into her eyes like spun sunshine. However, she still looked haunted. Harry wondered if this was how all the weaker of Malfoy's 'pets' ended up looking. Ethereal. Dead inside. Lost. A pang struck him when he thought of Silver, lost in the mansion. He tossed it aside.

'Eat,' he said. 'It's good.' Ferris didn't see it as important to address him before tucking it, licking the packaging clean. Thron barged her, sniffing the packaging when she stumbled away. She looked irritated, but made no sound at all.

'Oi!' Harry protested. Thron looked at him, before grumbling in a carefree manner. He walked over to Ron, before extending his claws and swiping across Ron's trousers.

'Gah!' Ron managed as his relatively new trousers were shredded on one side, and some Honeydukes goodies fell out. Thron snorted and meekly Ferris plodded over, before dropping her head, fighting with the wrapping to open the treats. Harry knelt down sighing.

'You need thumbs,' he said, avoiding her teeth and opening one. Ferris ate ravenously. It was junk food, but apparently it was better than nothing.

'You want,' she gasped between sweet mouthfuls, 'news of little dragon?'

'If you like,' Harry said gently. Ferris snorted, nipping Thron's shoulder. He was enamoured with the sky, and had been watching a flock of geese fly over. He yelped, before the two engaged in a short conversation. Ferris frowned.

'Bad news,' she said. 'Thron says nephew saw little dragon with night beast. Then, dragon in pot.'

'In a pot? Night beast?' Harry asked avidly. Ferris ignored him.

'Bad man has him now. We know no more.'

'Who are these people? These beasts?' Ferris shivered as Thron sniffed the chocolate curiously.

'We not speak names,' she said bitterly. 'We hate these more than we hate Malfoy.' She frowned. 'Night beast and Bad man... animals. Malfoy's pets. We... fear of them.'

'So Silver is...' Harry tried. Ferris nudged him.

'Little dragon make smell when die,' she said. 'Nephew not smell. Little dragon live.' Harry felt odd relief wash over him. He felt ridiculous. It was just a pet. At best a present from his best friend. How had it so quickly come to mean more than that? Thron suddenly puffed out his wings, nearly taking off Ron's head with the streamlined, strong flaps. He snorted, broke into a sudden run and beat free of the plateaux, scattering gravel and clods of wild turf as he soared like a huge crow into the sky, relishing the feeling of freedom. Ferris said nothing, busied by finishing the chocolate.

'Well,' Ron said bleakly. 'I guess we're walking back.' Harry groaned.

'Guess so,' he grumbled. Ferris was stretching out her wings, eyeing the sky and all it's feathered prizes. She looked at the boys.

'Final deal,' she said firmly. 'For food, Thron and I take you down.' She looked at Ron. 'No more whine like pup.' Harry laughed and thanked her. Ron looked confused.

Within minutes they were soaring down on the near deserted Malfoy manor, her beautiful carved outcroppings, her smooth lines, her ornate brick work embossed by the falling sun. It was very nearly sunset. The winter evenings were creeping in fast. Harry and Ron were clinging to the bare backs of the impressive beasts. It brought back memories of riding Buckbeak. Harry quickly swallowed thoughts of Sirius. Sirius wouldn't have wanted him to dwell. Several people, including his own conscience had reminded him of that, and he had stuck by it. Suddenly he found himself pressed against the hairy neck of Ferris as she back winged, yipping irritably. Thron seemed equally ill amused. Ron was swearing as he began to slip off, but Thron nudged him back into place. The creatures hovered, snorting, puffing and blowing in an unhappy sort of way.

'What's wrong?' Harry asked in a hushed hiss. Ferris was trembling a little, partially from strain, partially from what Harry was surprised to find himself calling fear.

'Night.. creature,' she hissed through clenched teeth as something broke from the building like a discarded piece of dark cloth. Both beasts visibly tensed up, their back prickling, spines rising from sheaths hatefully.

'Night beast,' Harry found himself repeating, hugging close to Ferris' spined back and neck. The cloth seemed to be blown around for a while, before taking a horrifying form and beating it's way free, fluttering and flapping as if it were weightless and tossed carefree to the relatively gentle wind. It was horrifying. Even from here, Harry could sense dread in the pit of stomach, bile in his throat, and his eyes picked up sun glinting brusquely off sharp ebony teeth and claws with it's dying rays. The giant spear of bone and skin and darkness vanished over the crest of the valley's steep hillside, and slowly Ferris relaxed. Thron still fumed. Ferris clucked at him, and they sharply descended, alighting in the topiary garden. Harry and Ron quickly slipped off.

'Night Creature knows we go,' Ferris said bitterly. 'Maybe he no speak about. Maybe he do. We not knowing.' Ferris sighed, nudging Harry's shoulder. 'Maybe see parseltongue boy again?'

'I'll be at Hogwarts. In the north... maybe Scotland. Come up and visit me. It's next to-'

'We know,' said a rumbling voice close by. Ferris sighed as Thron nudged up to her, smiling through his words.

'You... but you can't-'

'Won't,' Thron grinned, chuckling eerily, eyes flashing blood red. 'We go east. See you again.' With that he bit Ferris' shoulder and sent her streaking across the ground before elegantly springing over the hedge and beating free into the sky. He examined the two boys, before snorting and following, though with a shorter run up. Soon, they faded into the cloud creases of the sunset, and Harry and Ron re-entered the gloomy manor to ponder this fear inspiring night creature... and more importantly the 'Bad man' who held Silver captive.

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	9. Chapter 9

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I own a gender confused Unicorn named Tasha. I am considering buying him a tutu. I do not, however, own a gender confused Dragon. I wish I did from time to time, but they would just fight.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: SLASH ON THE WAY. _

A/N

CHAPTER 9! **Next chapter is going to be the smut, but it'll be on this account, cause it's no worse than anything else I've seen on this site.**For future reference, my adult fanfiction account is at this address:

http/adultfan. those of you at adult fanfiction- I'm Tashasaphi at I'll link to the uber smut when it comes... geddit? Whahaahaa I crack myself up. I'll try and get some misdemeanour into this chapter, myarharharhar...

Thanks for your continued support!

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Halloween at Malfoy manor started with slick precision. A supremely prepared breakfast, the servants in masquerade, and beautifully crafted decorations that had appeared overnight. Harry and Ron, trudging into the hall later after an evening spent hunting the mansion for traces of the little Silver escape artist. Not only the evening, of course. Ron had retired when the clock struck midnight, but Harry had carried on. And Ron hadn't gone to bed. Hermione's letter of 'Why haven't you written and told me EVERYTHING yet!' had arrived with dinner, and he had dutifully spent the unholy hours of the morning scribbling a very messy, sleepy reply. Harry had crept all the way back up to the Malfoy corridor. He had even told the two scary Chimera that he had freed Thron. The smaller one had looked distinctly pleased. However, they didn't speak Parseltongue, so they couldn't answer any questions about Silver. Harry had departed pretty quickly from that area anyway. He was wearing his invisibility cloak, but half way through his conversation with the Chimeras a door has opened, allowing flickered faint firelight to trickle into the hall...

The Chimera froze up, glossy eyed, terrified, and the door swung shut after a glimmering figure exited. Harry couldn't really see it. It walked so gracefully to almost appeared to float. It glimmered with some unnatural glow, and it was ghostly pale, but not a ghost. Harry had seen ghosts. Lots and lots of ghosts. This wasn't even a poltergeist. This was something terrifying and wrong. It's head had rolled round lazily and started right into him with eyes like flaming coals, and he felt shivers of terror, and unnervingly of pleasure crease him under his invisibility cloak. The pale face, so soft of features the glows reduced to almost nothing, had stayed emotionless, gazing, glaring, whatever it was doing, right into him. The feelings racing through Harry felt so familiar, and so familiar to this place. However, there was no heat, no terrifying burning, only cool, complacent lunar brilliance glinting of the spectre. Harry bit his lip to suppress the moan that the gaze of those eyes could elicit. As suddenly as it had started staring, however, it stopped, and the chimeras flinched. Harry let out a silent sigh of relief, but stared curiously as the figure crossed the lush corridor. It raised a hand and gently opened a door. The house creaked wantonly. Harry noted, curiously, even through his odd, respectful terror, than one hand was dripping a suspicious white liquid. It ran in tiny rivulets over and around the slender, glimmering hand, dripping carelessly and thickly off the slim, long index finger. With a sound like rushing wind, a howling of the beams of the house, and the soft click of the door, it was gone, and the corridor was dark and still again. The little smears of white melted into the floor and walls and vanished, but the slightly musty smell of their true nature lingered a little. The Chimeras looked at Harry meekly, whimpering. Harry, in a burst of courage, ruffled the coats a little in comfort, before standing up. He jumped when the portrait behind him snored loudly, before hurrying off to new locations. That corridor... was just TOO weird.

'So no such luck, then?'

'No. Thron said that Silver can't be dead, but for all I know he could have escaped by now, or died since Thron spoke to his nephew.'

'Did you try speaking to the nephew?'

'Of course,' Harry snapped. 'He didn't speak parseltongue at all.'

'That's a bit of a problem,' Ron sighed. 'What about that lizard though?'

'Damn!' Harry gasped. 'I was supposed to go and speak to him yesterday!' The words haunted Harry's mind- his promise to go and speak to the little brass prisoner, and it's warning about the corridor on Sunday. Harry felt a chill run down his spine. From what he had seen so far, it hadn't lied to him...

'Well, go see him today. Mum and Dad have snuck off somewhere- Dad mentioned something incoherent about electrickshons...'

'Electricians.' Harry explained. 'Muggles who deal in electrical things, like machines. And I can't go and see him today. He's right up in the private wing!'

'Invisibility cloak. Duh.'

'Tried that,' Harry said. 'There are... things up there that can see through. And he told me not to go up there today. I went up there... must have been early this morning. There was something...' Harry broke up. 'We just, can't. Okay?' Ron pouted, Chudley chewing at the frayed edged of his scarf.

'I bet Silver's up there,' he mused. Harry raised an eyebrow.

'Silver is a coward at the best of times,' Harry mused. 'You said so yourself. Why would go up to the top of building, up hundreds of steps, past killer chimeras to get tangled up in the corridor from the black lagoon?' Ron smirked.

'But he's a captive of the "Bad Man", right? And the "Night Creature" we saw last night. Captives don't get to choose where they're kept. And if all you say about this corridor of doom,' Ron's voice dripped sarcasm, 'is true, then I can't think of anywhere else I'd want to lurk if I was a big scary black bed sheet.'

'It was a lot more than a bed sheet, Ron,' Harry chided. 'But you've got a point.'

'Failing that,' Ron mumbled. 'We could try that Martyn bloke aga-'

'Don't even suggest that,' Harry snapped. 'He's...' At that precise moment Martyn Crabtree entered the hallway they were walking down, face blanched, eyes a little puffy, talking rapidly in what sounded like Russian to the maid who was blubbering at his side as they rushed along, barging past Harry and Ron blindly. Harry took a moment to look around. All along this portrait gallery there were staff muttering to each other, horrified and shocked. They kept entering and exiting, and in the distance, in other halls and room and corridors there were not only the wails and cackles of the Halloween decor, but true sobs of dismay and gasps and wails of shock and terror and misery.

'Something's wrong...' Harry muttered.

'You don't say,' Ron shot back. Someone barged past them in the opposite direction.

'I want Crabtree in my office immediately! Call in the stable boys in tens. Then the guards. The Chimeras must be brought into the annexe! Now, Frida!' Lucius Malfoy's enraged tones echoed down the corridor, and a young maid scampered off with her instructions. Lucius turned off sharply and ascended the spiral stairs at the end of the way. His voice echoed out from the corridor above, calling some indescript name with rage.

'Much trouble in paradise, I see,' Ron mumbled. 'Something really bad must have happened.'

'Maybe a topiary fell over.'

'Or someone over cooked tonight's main course.'

'Or someone changed his hair tonic for whisky.'

'Who knows?'

'The world is full of wondrous mysteries.'

'Harry!' Harry wheeled around. Martyn swept towards him, looking distraught. 'I have to talk to you!'

'Lu-Lucius was looking for you... I mean Mister Malfoy... er...' Harry felt awkward. Martyn grasped his shoulders and pushed him into a room off the corridor.

'Hey!' Ron yelped as Martyn slammed the door and locked it. It was a tiny lounge, with a sofa, and arm chair and a fireplace. There was also a scary looking pot plant that wriggled from time to time and a large, stuffed phoenix in the corner, and several portraits, but it was a cramped room compared with most in this place. Harry rather liked it.

'Sit,' Martyn panted. Harry obliged quickly. Martyn slumped into the armchair, raking his hands through his hair.

'What's up?' Harry asked meekly, perching on the sofa. The fire crackled in the background. Martyn looked at it for a few moments, before swallowing hard, eyeing Harry.

'The pendant,' he finally croaked. Harry swiftly took it out form under his shirt.

'Here. They came round to get all the others, but I managed to keep it safe.'

'Good,' Martyn smiled mirthlessly. He reached out and touched it, before recoiling and hugging himself.

'We found Evelyn,' he finally said.

'That's great!' Harry said quickly. Finally, he could give back the pendant. Evelyn had put himself at great risk for Harry's mischief.

'Hmm,' Martyn managed to reply. 'Harry, I've got to speak to Lucius.'

'I know. He was yelling.'

'I... I haven't got anything to tell him.'

'What?' Martyn moved forward in his seat, grabbing Harry's knees, his watery eyes glaring into Harry's. Harry froze up.

'Listen to me,' Martyn hissed. 'This is important. This isn't any of your silly, chimera releasing games anymore.'

'You knew about that?' Harry managed to squeak. Martyn's hands were icy cold on his knees, and they were gripping hard.

'We can count,' Martyn snarled. Harry felt a shiver of what could have been fear pass through him from the ice in his tone. 'That's not important. Two chimera do not matter like this does. Malfoy... he's going to get a lot of stick for this. And that is just what he doesn't want or need.'

'Martyn-'

'Listen, brat,' Martyn snapped. 'Tell me exactly what happened. The night you came here. Evelyn gave you the pendant...' Harry didn't respond immediately. Martyn's hands were hurting him.

'Answer me!' Martyn shouted. Harry jolted.

'He left!' Harry blurted. 'The maid took me and Ron out, and he left through the door we came in through!'

'More!' Martyn snapped.

'There isn't anymore!' Harry protested, but the sound was stopped short when something came into contact with his face, knocking him backwards onto the sofa. When he looked up, Martyn was looming over him, seething, one hand raised.

'I can hit you again, boy,' Martyn snapped. 'It doesn't bother me.' He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer. 'Tell me what I need to know, or else?'

'Or else what?' Harry growled. 'I already told you what I know? You want me to describe weather conditions or something? There's nothin-' Slap. Martyn struck him again.

'Tell me,' Martyn hissed. Harry frowned. His face stung.

'Evelyn left through the door we came in through. He walked out and we left through the other door. That's it.'

'Where did he go?'

'What's up with him if you're so interested?' Harry managed to get the question out before Martyn grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and thwacked his head back onto the chair hard. Despite it being a sofa, it still made Harry's head spin.

'Listen, you,' Martyn snarled. He was a lot stronger than he looked. This angry side was really well hidden. 'I went to Durmstrang. With one wave of my wand, I've gutted Gorillas and torn horses limb from limb. Imagine what I can do to a little brat like you who's getting in my way-'

'Quit threatening me,' Harry writhed in his grip. 'I've told you, Evelyn left, and I didn't see him again!'

'Not good enough!' Martyn shouted over him, pinning Harry down. 'What's it gonna take to get more information out of you? Huh? What do you need as a stimulus...' Harry paled. Martyn's eyes were hollow, stormy and dark as he leaned closer, his weight smothering...

'CRABTREEEE!' The holler was deafening. Martyn snapped away like a bullet. He threw Harry onto the floor.

'Whatever,' he snarled, sniffing. 'He'll find out what you know anyway.' Martyn flopped onto the sofa.

'Poka,'1 he hissed, before the sofa suddenly shot straight upwards and melded through he ceiling, vanishing without a trace. Harry sat there, stunned, sickened and horrified, his heart pounding against his ribs, gulping air. He sat there in fact, for sometime, just him, the scary plant, the stuffed phoenix and the fire, until Ron's banging on the door and calling for him called him back from his repulsion, and he managed to get up, tuck the pendant away, forcibly unlock the door and escape.

Silver lay sprawled inelegantly across the bare legs of his captor. The creature, whose slim, mischievous fingers were coiling and uncoiling the penndragonne's tail and caressing their owners full, soft white lips, moved suddenly to the top of the tiny head, stroking the carved lines of the jaw, before returning to between the eyes, burning hot. Even in sleep, the penndragonne writhed, one deceptively strong hand clawing his body down onto the bare velvet skin of the long, slender legs. The penndragonne let out a yelping moan, it's eyes screwing up, it's needle like teeth bared. Eyes flared like coals, and those white lips curled into a nasty smile as the foggy path of memories opened up easily for him. The door slammed open. The penndragonne fell still and limp on the pale lap, and the hands fell into the monotonous, believable pattern of stroking the silvered skin of their captive. Narcissa Malfoy's French kitten heeled shoes clicked across the floor. The maid crouched down, unaware of the looming presence in the high backed chair. Her skirt rose as she bent, revealing the lacy tops of expensive stockings. The predator, the captor, allowed his eyes to wander hungrily. He wondered greedily how many times Lucius had seen the tops of those same stockings. How many times he'd pulled those stolen shoes from the slut's feet and thrown her across the study desk he so often sat his bastard son down to work at. The creature's eyes burned hot into the girls back, and she suppressed a gasp as her cheeks flushed, but she diligently continued in her work, blaming her own dirty mind. Her little body bobbed as she cleared the ash from the fireplace. The penndragonne flopped limply in his pliant hands. He allowed himself a small smile. The girl bent lower, her skirt hoisting further, revealing more of her pale thigh. The creature bared it's teeth. How often had Lucius' nails left marks on that soft flesh? How many times had that skirt been hoisted in this silly little study before? How glorious it would have been to have had her Ladyship wander in whilst that skirt was still flying high, and he was still pounding into her. What a malicious little scheme, the predator thought to himself. What a simply wonderful feeling of mischief...

'What are you doing in here?' Click click click. New shoes for the Lady, he noticed. These must have been the new french fashion. She spent so much time there.

'My lady!' The maid managed, hopping up. 'I was... You're...?'

'It does not matter,' Narcissa hissed cooly. 'Get out. You can finish later.'

'Very good, my Lady,' the Maid huffed, her face burning. She breezed out, and Narcissa fell into one of the chairs. The predator sat, unnoticed, hands secretly burning patterns into the Penndragonne's skin. It eyed the woman contemptuously. What a pompous woman. What a poor representative of the female race. She disgusted him. And so blind! Here he sat, what she drove herself mad to try and find, and she was too stuck up and arrogant to see him! Oh how he loathed her. How he enjoyed burning her in her sleep, driving all pleasure from her icy mind, making her life a hell. She deserved it. Her poison had to be eradicated, one way or another...

'There you are,' she said in a soft mewl as boots clapped into the room and the door swung shut. The predator tensed up.

'You should be in bed,' the voice snarled. 'Where they all think you should be. You'll arouse questions.'

'No one comes up here,' she whispered. 'They don't have to know.'

'I have opened my house!' A fist impacted with the well used study desk, rattling a vase.

'They could come here if they liked. You will go back to your hiding place and keep your head down.'

'It's dark down there,' she hissed. 'Morgana is prudent-'

'Stupid bitch!' A sound of fists colliding with flesh and a cry of pain. 'Brainless wench! Do not speak of her here as if she were a friend. Something we speak of!' A long pause.

'The walls have ears.' Grey eyes scouring white flesh hungrily. Meeting those enflamed eyes with undisguised lust. Perfect.

'Get out,' the voice finally purred, ice on his lips. 'Out of here.'

'I will visit my family.'

'Good. Out of the country.'

'Yes. Where there is sunshine and air. I am not a dungeon dweller.'

'I am aware of that,' the voice drawled nastily. 'Out of here.' And she apparated. Lucius fell on the predator, hands around his neck, throttling. the enflamed eyes rolled back, and the sweet voice cried out dryly, fingertips clawing powerlessly.

'Never do that again,' Lucius snarled. 'Never!'

'Of course, master!' he wheezed, tears pearling. Lucius snarled, watching those lips turn rose, as if paint bled into them, and those inescapable eyes lock with his and burn for his forgiveness. They dried his mouth, made his heart throb in his ears. Enraged, he threw the creature aside. It impacted with the floor and then the wall, knocking over the chair it had sat it. It lay, sprawled, it's long nightshirt keeping it's dignity as it eyed him like a forlorn puppy. Lucius bent and picked up the discarded penndragonne, running his hands over the silver runt critically. He frowned, before tossing it back to the boy-like creature.

'Put this filthy thing in a tank,' he snapped. The predator looked surprised, before smirking.

'Anything for you,' it purred, before scampering out of the door and slipping unnoticed into another chamber, just as Martyn Crabtree and several maids entered, looking uneasy. Lucius sighed, sitting behind the desk, setting up a quill.

'Sit down,' he snarled. Reluctantly, they complied.

Halloween seemed uneventful for Ron and Harry. Silver was still no where to be found, and by lunch time, they had gone to the main lounge for a light lunch. Ron sat on the floor, bonding with Chudley, but Harry sat in an ornate armchair in the corner, away from everyone. He was vaguely reading Hermione's letter, but just barely. The portraits were chattering, and with the buzzing worries in his head he could hardly concentrate. The portrait next to him depicted a man playing with two chimera pups. Harry turned in his seat.

'You're Amadeus, right?' he asked, quietly so no one noticed. The man in the painting looked up.

'I am,' he said in a soft, deep voice. If he had been corporeal, it would have been the kind of voice that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Harry frowned, an idea flooding his head.

'How many portraits have you got?' He asked.

'Where?' the young man replied. 'In the manor?'

'Yeah.'

'An unusual question,' the man pondered, before smiling. 'It's that sort of thing that keeps one feeling sprightly. I have 42 portraits in this mansion.'

'I see,' Harry said softly. 'And you can travel between them, right?'

'Of course.' Harry frowned.

'This is going to sound rude,' he said softly, the portrait listening intently. 'but... could you look for something for me?'

'I might have already seen it,' the man said with a grin.

'A penndragonne?' The man raised an eyebrow.

'There's one down there with the red headed boy.'

'No!' Harry hissed. 'Another one. My one. It's smaller and-'

'You actually lost your penndragonne?' The man said, incredulously. 'That's ridiculous, Penndragonne's stick to people like gum to paper2!'

'My penndragonne doesn't. Look, have you seen it or not?' Amadeus ignored his question.

'It must have a brain defect or something,' he wittered, scratching behind the little Chimera's ear. 'Penndragonne's are like pigeons-'

'Listen, can you-'

'in that they have crystals in their brains-'

'-just tell me if-'

'that act like the homing devices on a pigeon, except-'

'you've seen my-'

'they tie them to their owners.'

'Penndragonne!' Harry snapped. Chudley looked up, but no one else did. He was somewhat glad of that. The man in the painting frowned.

'I think I might have seen one about the place,' he finally said. 'In a tank on the second floor?'

'Been there. He's not there now.'

'Odd... '

'So you haven't seen him.'

'Can't say I have. I haven't got many portraits I frequent on the upper floors. You might like to check there.'

'I have. All i saw where Chimeras.'

'Oh dear...'

'Oh dear what!' Harry snapped, his tone attracting Ron's attention. He peered with Harry into the painting.

'Well,' Amadeus managed. 'I rather suspect, if there are Chimeras loose with your little penndragonne that it's...' he paused. 'met it's demise.' Harry paled.

'Don't listen to him,' Ron snapped. 'Silver chased of Chimeras once, right?'

'When?' Harry said, distracted. Ron frowned, then remembered the glassy tone Harry's eyes had taken as he had moved towards the carriage chimeras.

'Never mind,' he muttered. 'Thron said he wasn't dead, didn't he!'

'Well...' Amadeus considered, standing up. 'As I said, I don't have many pictures on the upper floors. From my experience, there are people who live up there exclusively. perhaps they have picked him up.' He frowned. 'Though I can't imagine them abiding him for long.'

'The Night Creature and the Bad Man,' Harry muttered. Amadeus laughed.

'Odd names for them, but yes, I suppose they fit. Though, he's not much of a man.' Harry and Ron frowned. 'Well, have to be off. Billiards is starting up. I can't miss another bout.'

'Wait!' Harry demanded, but he slipped under the frame and was gone, leaving the crooning baby chimeras whining and pouncing miserably. Ron hoisted Chudley onto his shoulder.

'We've got to find him before we go back,' Ron said decisively, 'Or you'll mope all year.' He grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him out of the room.

'Where are we going?' Harry asked weakly. Ron rolled his eyes.

'To find your wretched runt of a penndragonne, moron,' he growled. 'Come on. Let's get the cloak and pay your lizard friend a visit.'

'But he said-'

'You're supposed to be the heroic one, Harry,' Ron hissed, grinning. 'Don't make me drag you.'

Silver's eyes flickered open. He was on the floor of a room he knew. A room he had been in before. A room he didn't like. The smell of it was strong in his now sensitive nostrils. And another smell... sort of clean... coconutty, almondy, vanilla-like. Clean, but slightly too sweet. Too nice. Too good. In this way, wrong. Slowly he rolled onto his feet and stood up. His mind was fuggy. He could remember that he'd been here before, but not why, not how. He was Silver, the penndragonne. That was all that existed in his head. And it bothered him. There had been more... where had it gone?

'I suppressed it,' a voice said. Silver looked up. He knew that voice. Now he knew how he knew that smell. He hated that smell! He feared that voice! He looked hurriedly around, looking for a cavern to hide in, and crept under the dresser, hunched like an angry cat.

'I know where you are,' said the voice, words rolling off the professional tongue. Silver spied a flash of lily-white skin as the creature looked at it's reflection in a glass. A copied image of those horrid eyes bored into him and he snarled.

'Mind your tongue,' the voice chided. 'I'll not listen to your whinings. Now that I don't have to.' The white lips parted to reveal perfect teeth. Maybe a little too sharp.

'Where was I... oh yes. Your mind. You're such an open book. Maybe because I know so much about you...'

_Shut up! Crawl under a rock where you belong and die!_

'You'd like that, wouldn't you, brat,' the voice snarled. ' I will never do anything to please you. You deserve only my contempt. Weak. Pathetic! A tiny little runt who's arrogance outweighs his mass. What do people see in you? Why do they care? There's nothing there that isn't in someone more worthwhile. A chimera has more good points than you. I've eaten non magic folk with more potential that you. You're a wreck-'

_Shut up!_

'-you're pathetic. You'll let your mind be broken so easily. I've never had easier prey. You cracked like a nut under a dragon's foot. You fell apart like sand. You tore yourself open before me and let me in. Is that what you want, little one? Is that what you long for?'

_Filth! Pestilence of my house! Get out! Leave me alone!_

'Strong words,' the creature drawled. 'I'm almost impressed. However, since you're only a parrot repeating what your father's said it's hardly impressive. Your father...' the creature paused, getting up and sitting in a chair where his slim form was in full view. He placed fingers to his lips.

'Your father...' he repeated. 'A pool of poisonous vanity, a pride of you that is undeserved. He is weak. He puts faith in the faithless. His desire calls and his entity follows. Such weakness is almost unbearable. However... his strength gives me a place to be... a little hole to worm into... or a hole in me for him to wriggle his worm...'

_Shut up! Stop talking!_

'You're mind already weakens,' the creature said matter-of-factly. 'I am burning it as we speak. It will melt under my caresses, and you, the ridiculous, pompous waste of space that you are will die in that ignoble shell as a brainless crone of that silly child.' The creature smiled. 'And he, the one you follow, the one who leads you now he has been betrayed... he will forget you-'

_Stop it!_

'He will stop longing for you. Why should he want you? He has me.'

_You're lying! Leave me alone! They'll find me!_

'Oh, don't get me wrong, I do hope someone finds you.' The creature's eyes were cool.

'I'm a generous person. Share the wealth, if that's the phrase. Laughter is the very best medicine. Even that ridiculous Voldemort could heal his deep set scars laughing at a disaster like you.' The creature grinned. 'People will love me. For me, and for what I've done to you. That's what you dislike about this most. I found that in your muddled little boy head. You hate me, don't you? You hate what I can do for your father. You hate how easily I'd leave him in the gutter, steal his power and give myself whole heartedly to the arms of another. It would be that simple. He has no power over me. You know that and you hate it. It make him weak, and the pathetic little thing he has to protect weaker. Doesn't it?'

_Stop..._

'I was there that day. I watched you flinch under his touch. I watched you cry like the babe you are as he invaded your mind. It really is easy, you know. I watched the blood fall from your veins. Dirty blood. Blood that doesn't deserve the power it cannot control!' The creature leapt from it's seat, it's now clawed hand swiping the cowering reptile from under the chest of drawers. It held the whimpering creature up, huffing in an odd, bitonal wheeze, eyes aflame, joints in back and arm cricking horribly and claws and elongated teeth bared threateningly.

'You should have died,' it whispered. 'Saved your wretched self the trouble.' It wheezed hard, before smirking, it's body relaxing and claws and teeth receding. It set the trembling creature on a side table, eyeing it contemptuously, grinning maliciously.

'He didn't recognise you,' he whispered. 'I really thought he would. His own wretched scrawny flesh and blood, and he didn't bat an eyelid. No congratulations, son! You did it! All that I ever asked of you is done! Your finally a success!' The creature cocked it's head. 'No paternal hugs. No love. Poor little lizard.' The creature crouched down. 'You see, I'm everything he'll ever want. I'm everything he'll ever need. And with Aquilla under our control, we're unstoppable, and nothing will be beyond his reach. You... you're just a silly little tributary to our grand river. He'll forget you.' The creature bent, placing a scalding kiss upon the penndragonne's head. 'Because he doesn't need you anymore. Goodnight, Draco.' The creature got to his feet and swept from the room, satiated, as the patterns on the penndragonne's body burned red and, mindless, it collapsed sideways, quivering and whimpering, it's brain losing all sense of self.

'Right here.'

'You sure?'

'I've been here twice, Ron.'

'Were those...?'

'Ashwinders, I think.'

'That's what I thought. Maybe we should let one loose...'

'Don't be daft.'

'I wasn't. I was being mischievous- gah!'

The Chimeras eyed them curiously, before glaring at Ron.

'No killing him,' Harry growled. The chimeras seemed to frown. 'He's coming with me.' The chimeras whined, but let them through, still shrouded by the invisibility cloak.

'I warn you,' Harry whispered. 'There's something up here that can see through,' he swallowed. 'And something else... a booby trap or something... it's not deadly, just... uncomfortable.' His face was red. Ron slowly nodded.

'Ok.' They both froze up Lucius Malfoy exited one room, crossed the corridor and entered another. The lock clicked behind him.

'Bloody hell!' Ron hissed. Harry cuffed him over the head.

'Shhh!' he scolded. He and Ron padded silently down the corridor, veering over to the left where the coiling frilled saurian lay vertical against the door.

'Lizard,' Harry hissed. 'Wake up!'

'Oh not bloody parseltongue again!' Ron grumbled.

'Shh!'

'Oh Shh yourself!'

'Wake up!' Harry persisted. He prodded the hard skin of the Lizard but it didn't respond.

'Lizard!' Harry begged. 'We need to talk!'

'Can't. Not to today. Leave this place,' the Lizard commanded.

'Soon. We need to talk first.'

'You should have come yesterday, then,' The Lizard opened the whirling eye.

'We... we forgot,' Harry mumbled.

'Tough. It's not safe here. Things are afoot.' The lizard looked up at Harry. 'Not even the young master's bed chamber will provide sanctum here today.'

'That's Malfoy's room? I thought it was... after that thing in the mirror'

'That's not important!' The lizard snarled. 'Get out of here!'

'Have you seen a penndragonne, or someone with one?'

'What?' The lizard spluttered.

'That's all I need to know,' Harry begged. 'Please!'

'If it's all the way up here, it's probably a snack by now,' the Lizard pondered.

'So you haven't seen one?' Harry breathed, glancing around. The Lizard gave in and pondered for a second. Something appeared to click in it's head.

'Hang on a minute,' it said slowly. 'Maybe-'

'Who's there?' A door was flung open and a figure stepped out. Harry clapped a hand over his mouth, and Ron did likewise. The Lizard froze. Harry and Ron began to back away. A floor board creaked.

'Who's there!' The voice asked more insistently. Harry looked at it's owner, sweating. His eyes widened a little. He knew that face! It was the ash blonde boy from the hunt, wearing a pair of beige dress trousers, a loosely tucked in shirt and carrying a hefty scarlet book. There was fear in his hazel eyes. He padded forward firmly. 'I said, who's there?' A glint of ruby around his throat. A pendant. Harry took a slow step backwards, stepping firmly on Ron's foot. Ron, whimpering through his pressed shut lips, elbowed him and Harry staggered. The floorboards creaked again. The boy, tense like a hare trying to listen for the fox, stared straight at them, but through them. He stormed firmly forward and swiped out, mere millimetres from the billowing cloak. He looked surprised by his empty hands.

'I...I know you're there!' He commanded, a slight European edge to his voice. 'If this is a prank, it's not funny!' Harry and Ron looked at each other. Slowly they took a step backwards, then another, then another. As soon as they were back past the chimeras, they could make a break for it. The blonde boy drew his wand, eyes wide, darting. Ron and Harry both swallowed hard. Not good. The wand was raised, its end shooting impromptu sparks as the young man waved it to and fro. Harry shot a look at the Chimeras. They weren't looking. In fact, they were standing stock still, staring straight ahead.

'Harry, watch-' Ron hissed, before Harry's foot once again landed hard across the bridge of his, and he suppressed a whimper.

'Show yourselves!' The boy snapped, and a sudden, rushing wind shot spiralling forth from his wand. Harry staggered off Ron's foot, Ron cursing soundlessly, before the wind collided, sending them sprawling. Their feet shot from under the billowing fabric as they collapsed to the floor.

'Accio cloak,' the boy said sharply. The cloak, in a further betrayal, fluttered off them, folding back into view at their feet. The boy looked at his wand irritably, before eyeing the sorry pair as the cloak meekly slipped off the side of Ron's flushed face. The blonde's fear and rage seemed to melt into surprise.

'...' a cool familiar voice called a mumbled name. 'What's going on?' The boy looked into Harry and Ron's imploring, desperate eyes, before sighing. He pocketed his wand.

'Nothing, sir,' he drawled in his soft accent. 'The chimeras were snapping, is all.' Ron and Harry mouthed desperate thanks. The boy rolled his eyes in an aloof manner, before stooping to collect up the cloak, laying it over one arm and over his hands to Harry and Ron. They got to their feet, brushing themselves down bashfully, Harry taking back the cloack and petting it protectively and bashfully.

'Sorry about that,' Harry whispered. The boy managed a small smile.

'It's alright,' he replied in effortless softness, hazel warm eyes glinting. 'It's Halloween. You're permitted your mischief.' He rubbed the back of his head, allowing his flowing grey-blonde hair to fall into a little more disarray. It suited him. 'Although, you shouldn't be up here. This is a private place for the Malfoy family. Hence the guards...' the boy gestured to the oblivious chimeras. He smiled softly.

'Sorry,' Harry hissed. 'We were hunting for my penndragonne. We didn't...'

'Penndragonne?' the boy said airily. 'You have a penndragonne?' Chudley's head was flopping out of the shoulder bag Ron was carrying, snoring silently.

'Not that one,' Harry said. 'My one's... lost.'

'Oh... I am sorry.' The boy blinked. There was an element of concern in his face, but it was thoroughly over shadowed by complacent airiness. 'You must be upset.'

'Yeah...' Harry managed. He could see Ron's hackles rising. 'You could say that. Anyway... have you seen it?'

'Your penndragonne?'

'What else?' Ron snapped. The boy raised an eyebrow.

'Not the one in this boy's bag?' he said gently.

'No,' Harry remained patient, but the uncaring nature of the figure, who had the semblance of a Malfoy, irritated him. Ron, as always, was not keen on hiding how he felt. The boy sighed, drumming fingers on his lips.

'What would penndragonne...' he paused. 'appear like?' Ron visibly twitched. However, the blanched nature of cheeks noted how aware he was of Lucius Malfoy pacing in the next room, his footsteps echoing off the wood, and raising his voice wouldn't really help.

'Like that one,' Harry patiently pointed at Chudely. 'Except thinner and smaller.'

'It would be difficult for it fatter, bigger AND lost,' the boy mused.

'Shut up,' Ron growled. The boy eyed him emptily, before looking back at Harry.

'I cannot say I have seen any penndragonnes in this vicinity,' he said softly. 'However, that doesn't mean they're not there. Of course, I will look into for you.'

'Really?' Harry said suspiciously. The boy raised an eyebrow.

'Of course,' he said. 'That lump your unfortunately ginger friend is carrying is the first penndragonne I have seen. It would be a shame for me to miss the opportunity to see a normal sized one.'

'Watch it-' Ron began.

'Well, we'll be going then!' Harry cut in as he saw the sides of the boy's mouth twitch in a manner horrifyingly reminiscent to Malfoy. 'Thanks for not dobbing us in.' The boy batted a hand.

'Not at all,' he said, before smirking. 'Of course, I will have to play a trick on you now.'

'What?' Harry managed, half way through shoving an irate Ron out of the corridor. The boy cocked his head.

'A trick. You and your friend and invisibility cloak. I will be getting you back for that.'

'Looking forward to it,' Harry rushed. 'Goodbye now!' He and Ron bolted out of the corridor. The hazel eyes watched the go, before a slow smile crept across the porcelain facial features.

'And what a trick it will be...'

The weekend at Malfoy manor came to a head with the magnificent Halloween Ball, where the two large ballrooms and the most grand dining room were opened up, bedecked with decorations, and enchanted to provide extra spooky details. Everyone wore their best dress robes, often decorated with Halloween touches, as well as a mask. It was a masquerade ball, after all. In the dining room, tables of varying sizes were arranged, surrounded by floating chairs with no legs that hovered unnervingly. Every few minutes a ghostly stage would leap out of one of the walls and scamper through, pursued by three hounds and two headless riders, above the heads of the guests. An enormous spread of varied cuisine had been prepared, and when sitting at your table you only had to ask and it would be delivered, by ghostly apparitions, from nowhere. In the ballrooms spectral courtiers drifted through the rooms, shockingly handsome and alluring, ignoring all signs of life, and quite often each other. Live birds had been released, along with bats, which fluttered luxuriantly throughout the proceedings. It was overall a very showy affair. Harry, however, was thoroughly bored. Ron had said he was just popping to the loo, but after about half an hour Harry had spotted him traipsing after two obviously part veela girls, who were chatting amiably with each other as they wove through the room. Standing on the high, richly carpeted balcony, he was watching with what had been vague amusement, as Ron and the other followers (their numbers were steadily growing) followed meekly, tried to make a move, failed and fell back into line obediently.

'Pathetic, isn't it?' said a voice at his side. Harry looked up to espy a figure in soft grey-black, ornamented with blue, carrying a peacock mask that trailed long, obnoxious feathers. He lowered the mask a little, considering the scene with his rich, hazel eyes. 'It's the same every year. Rose and Soulange traipse around the dance floor, and hopeful, brainless youth follows like a yipping spaniel.' The boy eyed Harry, smiling. 'Veela are obnoxious creatures, aren't they?'

'I guess,' Harry said vaguely. 'I'm... sorry about earlier.' The boy seemed more relaxed.

'Not at all,' he defied blandly. 'I just... wasn't expecting anyone. Strange things walk some corridors in this place.'

'You don't say,' Harry mumbled. The boy leant on the marble, carved barrier.

'A good turn out,' he drawled dismissively. 'I'm surprised. Lucius predicted it would be poor, after recent events.' He sighed. 'My father didn't want me to attend, but I have known Draco since he was a boy... vaguely. It would have been rude not to attend. Besides,' he smiled. 'It's a routine for me.' He considered Harry. 'However, you are a new face.'

'My friend's parent's were invited,' he said blandly. The boy nodded, musing.

'I see,' he said. 'They must be rich, to afford a penndragonne for their boy.'

'It's a school project,' Harry said. The boy's face seemed to twitch.

'So...' he managed. 'The one lost... was like homework?' Harry shook his head.

'A present,' he said. The boy seemed to relax a little.

'I see,' he said. There was a silence between the boys as they observed the boys chasing Rose and Soulange. The boy suddenly perked up.

'I had nearly forgotten,' he said softly. He reached inside his dress robes and drew out a bundle wrapped in a silken handkerchief.

'Forgotten what?' Harry asked. The boy placed the parcel on the narrow banister. He pulled a pin out of the top, and the silk fell aside in a swathe of scarlet, revealing a coil of grey skin.

'S...Silver?' Harry managed, hands itching.

'Coiled up under my chaise,' the boy said softly. 'Sleeping soundly. You're lucky,' Harry was picking him up, 'with all the security animals about, I'm surprised he wasn't snapped up.' As Harry's fingers coiled around the tiny body and drew it to him, the collar around it's neck flashed yellow before displaying the words 'CONTACT RE-INGAGED...IN YOUR HANDS' Harry could hardly believe it. A weekend of sneaking, chasing up answers, being attacked by booby traps in Malfoy's bedroom, releasing Chimera, being spied by spectres, and here, in his hands, was the tiny, drooping body, pale and wan, but alive, warm and his.

'I...' Harry began. 'I don't know how to thank you!' The boy batted his hand.

'As I said,' he grinned. 'I'll get you back later.' Harry smiled weakly.

'Sure,' he said. 'You have my full permission.' The boy raised an eyebrow, observing again.

'I would have done it anyway,' he said firmly. Harry laughed, feeling Silver reflexively knot his claws into the fabric of his clothes and grumbled against him in his sleep.

'Well,' he said softly. 'I'll look forward to it.' He paused, pondering that he didn't even know this foreign boy's name. 'Erm...'

'Ryan Abarov,' the boy said sharply. 'Of course, your press is far reaching. I know you.'

'I see,' Harry said almost bashfully. 'Well, thanks, Ryan.' The boy nodded, before his eyes connected with the chain around Harry's neck.

'I see,' he said softly. 'So you do have a pendant... I did wonder how you got past the chimeras.' Harry pulled it out politely, feeling through his fingers the relaxing thrum of Silver's heartbeat, lost in a world of strange comfort. He did wake up when the chain bit into his neck.

'Hey!'

'I'm sorry,' the boy said quickly, but without feeling. 'It's only... That's Evelyn Malfoy-Rottering's pendant.'

'Yeah,' Harry said bashfully. 'I've been meaning to get it back to him.' Hazel eyes observed him coldly, before the boy turned away.

'Don't bother,' he said cruelly, stepping away. 'Unless you want it buried with him...' He turned, eyes glinting strangely. 'What's left of him.' Harry felt a weight thud through his body, knocking out his breath.

'What?' He managed airlessly. The boy, Ryan, considered Harry like the dog considers it's quarry, the hare.

'A spinal cord and some chunks of bloodstained gristle,' he said as if he were reciting a shopping list. 'His. It was found out in the woods near the gates early this morning. I believe they're shipping it to his parent's promptly.' Harry felt violently sick. When he managed to look up again, the boy was gone, and the pendant hung like an albatross around his neck.

'Sit still'

Quack. Silver wriggled in Harry's grip, sleepy, disorientated, and highly aggrieved at the scrubbing Harry was giving him.

'I said, sit still!' Harry urged. It was eleven. Ron and He were catching a carriage home at eleven thirty. He was nearly packed, the sounds of the ball below distracting him even now, but Silver, even after waking, feeding mindlessly and wandering around looked dusty and pale, and true enough the grime was sloughing off him into the sink in Harry's petite bathroom. He was back, he was still his irritable self, but there was something... changed about him. He seemed restless, confused and dazed, with no real sense of territory or identity. And even without the champagne effect of the dust, he seemed drab, worn, pale and greyed. Harry, finally consenting to scoop up the fragile creature in a soft flannel and carry him out, pondered this carefully. More than anything, he blamed it on sleepiness, as Silver's eyes never seemed to really open, merely surveying their surroundings through dipped lids and dilated pupils. He placed Silver on the bed, not bothering to confine him as he sat demurely, staring at nothing in particular. Next to him lay Harry's dress robes and a mask he had been given, coated lavishly with eagle feathers. He had deigned to keep it- give it to Hermione probably. It looked vaguely antique, and she appreciated intricate things like that. Beside them was a parchment tube. Malfoy's essay. Harry had been to Malfoy's room, but it looked unused... besides, Draco wasn't here as far as he could tell. Harry shuddered. There was no way he was going back up there, though, not even if Draco had been there. Not after the last time.

'What the hell was that?...' he pondered out loud. Silver quacked and fell over sideways on the flannel, drowsy. Harry went to touch him and he snapped, his teeth grazing Harry's knuckles. Blood pricked beneath the thinner skin, but was not shed. The slight itchy throb gave Harry a small reassurance.

'At least you haven't changed,' he said out loud. Silver blinked up at him blearily, before averting his head in disgust. Harry managed a small smile, before his eyes were inextricably drawn to the scarlet pendant that lay, discarded, beside the tube. Harry felt his throat constrict. This morning... the panic, the crying maid, Lucius's anxiety and anger, and of course Martyn's behaviour... and all the questions... it made sense now. Harry sat down on his bed, Silver rolling due to gravity into the side of his jeans clad leg, trying feverently to bite him hatefully. It really hadn't clicked. He was sure the chimera would have said something if they had eaten him... Harry felt bile rise in his throat. Yesterday he had been speaking to Ferris and Thron, when it could have been them who were responsible the remains lying out in the grounds- Harry covered his mouth and ran into the en suite, hacking and coughing, spitting and cursing. Silver watched him, aloof, from the bed, crossing his forepaws. There was a depreciative glint in his grey mist eyes. In a few moments, Harry reappeared, wiping his mouth on a towel. He caught the penndragonne's gaze.

'Don't give me that,' he snapped. Silver snarled, his teeth bared, before puffing smoke and averting his head. This human really got on his last nerve. Harry coughed into the towel, looking a little startled, before calming. Angrily, he started packing, thrusting the tube and, with only a slight pause, the pendant, into his bag. Silver observed him, contemplatively, before sniffing arrogantly when Harry caught him looking. Harry rolled his eyes. He fastened his bag before sitting on the bed, wrapping Silver in his flannel and placing him on his lap. Silver looked mortified, especially when he gauged his height from the floor.

'Oh don't be such a priss,' Harry growled playfully, trying to cheer himself up. 'You've got wings. A little fall shouldn't bother you.' Silver gave him a potently withering glare before ambling around on Harry's knees, sinking his claws him where he thought he could get good access to Harry's skin and cause the most pain. Harry rolled his eyes and coiled the tail around his finger. Hissing like an aggrieved cat, Silver turned, swiped and missed, falling over and digging his claws and teeth into the thick denim, kicking and clawing and growling. Harry couldn't help but laugh. Despite the throb of guilt in his mind, the horrible images his mind concocted of Evelyn's remains, Silver, this new bobbing light, brought him through, like a kindly will o' the wisp. Grey eyes locked with Harry's, teeth tense around denim, eyes blank and yet full, and Harry couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion.

'I'm glad I found you,' he said. Silver stared at him, jaws still locked. The silence, the softness of the atmosphere was shattered when Ron burst in.

'Write to me, Rose! You too Soulange!' he cooed, waving, before tearing himself away. He looked daze. 'God, they were fine...'

'Glad to see you had a good time,' Harry said. Silver hissed hatefully. Chudley extracted himself from Ron's bag, chirruping.

'You found him!' Ron said cheerily, almost going to stroke the creature, before thinking better of it. 'Where was he?'

'Ryan brought him back,' Harry said. 'He found him upstairs.'

'I told you he was up there!' Ron said triumphantly. He clapped Harry on the back. 'Come on. Mum and Dad are waiting in the lobby.' Ron cringed. 'Eurgh... Double Potions in the morning.'

'Joy of joys...' Harry groaned, extracting Silver from his jeans and placing the creature on it's shoulder. It swayed, lashing it's tail around Harry's neck for support. It tickled. Harry snatched up his bags. Ron frowned.

'You look down,' he said. 'What happened, mate?' Harry sighed, swinging his bag onto his free shoulder.

'Come on,' he said, as the corridors of Malfoy manor sped by him with unnerving rapidity. 'I'll tell you about it in the carriage...' Ron frowned as they began their descent from their floor for the last time.

'From the look on your face,' he muttered. 'Seems like I'd rather not.'

With that, they made their exit, entering their tri-chimera carriage at the door, and watching as Malfoy Manor receded into blackness. Harry watched it go, almost longingly. He hadn't got to say goodbye to the lizard, or to the somewhat loveable brother of Thron and his friend up at the top corridor. He frowned as he remembered the traps, the ghostly figure, and, shockingly, the 'Night creature', just as a great swirling flap of black crossed the gleaming moon. Shuddering, Harry drew the curtain. Silver popped his head out under it, staring at the mansion. There was something... something he knew of this place... it irritated him because he couldn't detect what that something was. However, the heavy night hung on him like lead, and the odd flap of sinister leather nearby forced him to withdraw, and as Harry imparted the fate of Evelyn Malfoy-Rottering to Ron, he drifted into an uneasy, empty sleep, sinister patterns still itching invisibly against his skin.

* * *

A/N 

1 Poka is Russian for 'Bye' in an informal, quick way. No, I do not speak Russian. It's pronounced somewhere between Poka and Paka.

2 That's not chewing gum I'm talking about. Amadeus is from the 1600's you know.

AND ISN'T THE CREATURE HORRIBLE! You'll find out his name in the next chapter, and what he is


	10. Chapter 10

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own Kinder bars. They are my guilty pleasure.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: Slash, M/M/M, Violence, Bondage and just general Lucius and his minions filth, really._

A/N

We got to chapter 10! I finally get to showcase my smut skills. But trust me, this is a Harry/Draco story, and this brief foray is not going to upstage that in any way, when I get to it (just a couple of chapters more, I PROMISE.

**WARNINGS:**

**Homosexuality**

**Bestiality/ some characters are not human oO I am serious, yo**

**Lucius being a Masochistic fcktard**

**Master/Sub relations**

**Bondage? Yeah, there's bondage.**

**Pleasure/Pain --- sick in the head I is.**

Thanks for your continued support!

* * *

The clock ticked slowly on the mantle piece. A Monday afternoon. They were all gone. The party had been approved, his bracelet checked, the servants wrung of information. Now all he had to cope with was his mail and waiting for the invasion of his recluse this weekend. He shuddered at the thought. He shook his head, and in the silence of the office, got back to work. Pouring over the letter, Lucius felt a giddy jolt flood his system. The letter itself was the general junk his nephew sent him weekly, nothing special. Some other magic was afoot.

'You can come in,' he called calmly, and heard the door flutter open gently as a svelte body leant against it. The young man cast him a sultry look from his fiery amber eyes.

'You took an awfully long time to notice today,' he purred in a soft, velvety European accent, pouting. Lucius sighed, rubbing his temples.

'I was busy and you didn't knock,' he snarled. 'What does that mean?' The creature tried to smother a giddy squeak and he hurried across the office and slipped to the floor about two metres from Lucius' chair. The tag on his collar glinted in the candle light, flickering into the grooves of the embossed 'L'. A draft snuck down the chimney and toyed with his feather light colourless hair. Lucius turned his chair around, his silvered eyes boring into the flaming ones before him, before he raised his wand.

'Crucio,' he muttered, and watched as the delicate figure suddenly contorted, eyes rolling back, uttering an animalistic howl. Long teeth crept out of his gums as he writhed, shrieking, and his slender, pianist's fingers bent into cruel claws. The cries became more and more frenzied, blood trickling from the corner of the flailing creature's mouth, before Lucius lifted his wand, and the sound stopped dead, leaving only echoes in the archways of the ancient architecture. Slowly, the body sunk flat against the floor, the teeth and claws withdrawing, and the chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths.

'Master…' he finally managed, mouth curving into an almost satisfied looking smile.

'Wipe your chin, Orion.' Lucius commanded, swinging his chair back to face the desk.

'You are a complete waste of my time and energy, do you know that?' He looked at the gold band under her sleeve. On it his name and other criminal identifications were embossed. That stunt had nearly taken away his daily quota of energy. He snarled. Beside him, something stirred. Slowly, shakily, Orion's slender form bent itself up, smearing the blood of his chin with the back of his hand before licking at it like a cat.

'Are you decent now?' Lucius mused, starting the reply to his persistent but extremely well connected nephew. Orion mewed.

'Of course, Master,' he purred. 'You asked me to clean myself… therefore I am cleansed.' Orion slunk to his feet with the fluidity of a snake and swept in a deliciously slow and alluring fashion over to the chair, before draping himself over the back of the chair, eyes falling on Lucius lovingly. 'Whatever your wish, I am yours to command.' Almost mechanically, Lucius raised a hand ran his fingertips over the contours of Orion's face and down his neck, eliciting a desperate gasp from the younger man.

'I know,' Lucius whispered, feeling Orion tremble as his hand snaked back up across the boys cheek. A hand locked around the boy's neck and he in took a sharp breath.

'Kiss it.' Orion let out a longing sort of groan and dropped like a rag doll to his knees, Lucius's hand falling limply with him, before the boy tenderly, yet desperately, clutched the hand and began to press his lips to it, caressing it so tenderly Lucius had to avert his eyes to get back to his letter. For several minutes a silence descended across the room, with only the crackle of the fire, the scratch of the quill and the flutter of the owl's wings to interrupt the sensation tickling up and down Lucius' arm.

'E-Enough,' Lucius finally sighed, as if it were some great effort, and Orion gently released his hand, eyeing him dolefully.

'Up,' Lucius commanded, and in seconds Orion was on his feet. Lucius swivelled his chair around to face him, and studied the boy standing between his legs. Orion, he knew, was sixteen years old, and although his effeminate figure and gestures gave away his youth, and his race, his eyes showed a deeper kind of wisdom and understanding. Lucius relied on both these qualities in the boy. Beauty and an alluring nature, combined perfectly with a deeper understanding of the way the human mind works than any other creature alive. Except, of course, perhaps a few of his race. However, Orion failed to be as hot headed as they were, nor as frivolous and 'loose'. Lucky for Lucius, Orion was very intelligent, but more so than this, he was dedicated, and loyal.

'Perfect,' Lucius found himself whispering, eyes tracing burning lines across the boy's fine features and delicate figure. He raised a hand loosely, and Orion matched it, allowing his own slender fingers to ensnared by the stronger ones of the older man. Lucius drew the boy to him, and pulled him to the ends of his knees. Orion studied him for the briefest moment, and Lucius felt himself being torn open by the gaze.

'You are unwell,' Orion concluded, falling again to his knees and nuzzling against Lucius' knees.

'I'm fine,' Lucius sighed, watching as Orion raised his burning eyes to his mercury-silver set again.

'You are tired then,' he whispered captivatingly, using his free hand to stroke at his Master's leg. 'You work too hard.'

'I am a busy man,' Lucius muttered. Orion cocked his head, his face a perfect frown.

'Even busy men need to rest,' he decided, trailing an ice cold fingertip down Lucius' thigh, making him shiver, and eliciting a small, knowing smile from the youth. 'You will rest now, won't you?' Lucius found a smile creep to his lips.

'Yes,' he said gently, folding the letter with one hand and placing it flat against the desk. Orion raised an eyebrow.

'Are you blind today?' he asked playfully.

'Of course,' Lucius purred back, as Orion stood up.

'Then I will lead you,' he whispered, pulling a little on Lucius' hand. His touch now felt like fire, and it pulled Lucius mindlessly to his feet. Damn, the boy was good.

'Lead me,' Lucius commanded, and Orion's touch drew him on, his thumb pad tracing circles against Lucius' skin. Lucius' eyes fluttered shut. Orion, as usual, had picked the perfect moment in which to help him relax. Lucius found himself bending on to the extravagant, accommodating chaise lounge, his body falling against the velvet and the slope of the arm. He closed his eyes, uttering a quiet sigh, hardly noticing to soft added weight of Orion clambering on against the back of the piece and curling up to him. Lucius said nothing, he merely thought what he wanted, and instinctively Orion complied, his soft featured face pressing it's rose petal lips along his chin line, as light as down. He felt his wand being drawn from his pocket, and head the delicate swish as Orion used it to close and lock the door and turn out the lamps. Orion had some decency under his many layers of perfect and beautiful darkness. Lucius found himself uttering a small, broken sigh as teeth grazed against his neck, and dextrous fingers unwound his buttons and grazed nails along his chest.

'I thought you said I needed rest,' Lucius purred as Orion shifted his light frame to straddle his hips and nip along the older man's collarbone. Orion sighed contentedly as Lucius gasped as the desperate fingers traced lower.

'Relaxation is the most important part of rest,' Orion protested. Lucius let out a little chuckle that reverberated through the smaller boy as his lips came to rest at Lucius' nipple.

'No,' Lucius hissed, and Orion backed off a few millimetres, his breath fanning against Lucius' skin maddeningly. 'Sit up.' Smirking a little, Orion rotated his hips and pushed himself up, eliciting a groan from his master. Lucius hooked a finger under the collar and yanked, and watched as the fair haired boy gagged, face a picture of abused innocence.

'Behave,' Lucius purred. His hands rose together to remove the infuriatingly complex details of the boy's white shirt. 'When will The Lady be home?'

'In about three hours,' Orion mused, tucking a few strands of his oddly pale hair behind a perfect, small ear. 'She is visiting your relatives at le châteaux.' Lucius raised one hand to trace across the boy's face, watching as the eyes fluttered shut and listening to his whimper of divine pleasure.

'Who is she visiting?' he purred.

'Pascale,' Orion gasped as the fingertips grazed across his lips. 'Your cousin Pascale, and her children.' Orion tried to suppress a yelp by biting his lips as Lucius hands trailed down his body to clamp onto his waist, tracing small circles on his now bare stomach.

'What are the children's names?' Lucius persisted, watching Orion squirm to try and regain composure. This is what the boy dreamt of each night. To force him to keep his thoughts elsewhere whilst Lucius had his fun must have been such sweet torture. And such sweet pleasure for Lucius to watch the boy gasp for air and squirm. Internally he felt a pang of something. He had never been selective in his sexual partners, but Orion came above all others, no matter his gender. He didn't behave like a boy. To be fair, he didn't behave like a human at all.

'Jacques… ah…Claude and…nnnnn!' Orion's back arched as Lucius' fingertips dipped lower.

'Answer the question!' Lucius hissed threateningly. A tear traced it's way across the heavily flushed naturally pale cheek.

'Madeline,' he finished shakily. 'Jacques, Claude and Madeline.' Orion's eyes fluttered open as Lucius chuckled. 'I'm supposed to be helping you relax!' Lucius traced patterns on Orion's exposed stomach with a fingertip, chuckling, the other arm behind his head in an air of superior calm.

'Watching you in such beautiful agony is most relaxing,' he sneered. Orion pouted, eliciting a louder laugh from Lucius. Lucius sighed, still tenderly tracing shaped across Orion's chest and stomach, watching him brace and his eyes flutter shut as he began to toy with the boy's nipples.

'Did Aquilla do as I asked?' Lucius asked shortly as Orion's head fell back.

'What… would that have been?' he managed. Lucius sat up a little, letting his breath caress the burning skin. Orion whimpered.

'I asked him this morning to see to the Whitcamps… over in the next village. Did he do as I asked.' Orion straightened himself a little, curving his body away from Lucius until he could get his answer out.

'He left the manor for an hour, no more than that. He came back hungry. This is all I know.' Lucius' grip of Orion's hips tightened and the smaller boy yelped in pain. Lucius forcibly shifted the boy off of his lap and turned to face out across the room. Like a scarf, Orion fell about his neck, nibbling and purring into the skin.

'Call him,' Lucius hissed, wringing his hands. Orion stiffened a little against Lucius' back, and Lucius felt the surge of energy from the boy. He also heard the poorly stifled groan a few doors away.

'Damn it, Orion!' shouted a coarse, clear voice, and footsteps pounded across the floor. There was a click as Orion swished the wand to unlock the door, before it flew open and someone in a waistcoat and ornamental shirt padded into the room. He froze up after shutting the door, pressing his body to it, though no blush came to his cheeks.

'Bring yourself,' Lucius said slowly, 'and your chair… here,' He gestured to a point on the oriental rug about five feet from him. Slowly, painfully, almost mechanically the boy moved across the floor, picked up the simple wooden chair as if it were on fire, and moved it to the allocated space. Orion mewed, eyeing Aquilla superiorly as he nuzzled Lucius' shoulder. Aquilla met his gaze, but almost fearfully, ebony clashing with flame.

'Sit,' Lucius commanded. Aquilla replied quickly rather than gracefully. The chair did not overbalance. Aquilla was similar in build to Orion, but he had an unhealthy, underfed look which offset his fine, handsome features. His eyes and hair were dark, and the cut less clean and neat than Lucius would have liked. The hair itself had the qualities of raven's feathers; heavy, slick and dark. He was perhaps a little taller than the petite Orion, and weighed more, but it was lean muscle rather than bulk. His habit of dressing in old fashioned robes was something Lucius found vaguely alluring about him, but he was too vulnerable for Lucius to have a powerfully sexual interest in.

'Do you recall me asking you to do something this morning?' Lucius asked silkily, drawing Orion around him and across his lap as he reclined. Aquilla frowned.

'Deliver a message to the Whitcamps,' he replied shortly, his voice harsher to listen to than the silken tones of his pale counterpart. 'I delivered directly after you made your request... despite the damage...' He arrogantly raised a hand, showing a nasty peeling sunburn that was creeping from under the cuff of his sleeves. Lucius narrowed his eyes.

'I asked you to "enlighten" the Whitcamps, not to just deliver the message, I believe.' Aquilla stiffened again. Orion let out a purr of pleasure as Lucius began to caress him again.

'I…'

'They are still alive? All of them?' Aquilla's eyes widened.

'You asked me to enlighten and educate… get the message across, not murder!' Lucius slapped his hand down across Orion's gut, causing him to shriek in pain. Tendrils swept out of the chair's legs and bound his feet. Aquilla swallowed hard.

'Aquilla,' Lucius whispered. 'Educate, and enlighten. Surely you know by now that I am never literal in my meaning, and I am never subtle in my action. You also know that I have a limiter on my wand and a lock down on the estate. You further know that your job is to be my hand in these sort matters, since I am unable to use mine own.' Orion whimpered as Lucius soothed the stinging red mark across his navel. 'Therefore, when I sent you to educate and enlighten the Whitcamps, to get my message across, what do you think I meant?' Aquilla averted his eyes.

'Look at me or suffer,' he snapped, watching Aquilla's eyes flick back to his. 'Now answer.'

'You wanted me to kill them,' Aquilla muttered.

'Correct,' mused Lucius softly, feeling Orion squirm as he toyed with this puppet of his.

'Because that is what you are good at. That is what I have you for. My killing curse. I do value you, Aquilla.'

'You make me very aware of that,' Aquilla muttered. Orion dug his nails into the chaise as he moaned.

'I'm glad,' Lucius purred. 'Because it is my intention to make you feel valued, and to use you to your full potential. However…'

'I have failed you through my sheer and utter incompetence,' Aquilla sneered. Orion growled at him angrily and he wilted, but the growl soon became a purring gasp of sheer bliss.

'No,' Lucius corrected him. The chair shifted across the carpet towards him. Aquilla didn't move from his precisely tensed pose. Lucius eyed him carefully. 'You failed because you are a coward. You have the skills, and you are competent. It's unfortunate that somewhere along the line your genes have been twisted in a way that you have forgotten your instincts.' Aquilla was shivering violently at this point, and had his eyes pinched shut, breath gasping.

'Stop it…' he whispered. Lucius frowned. The tendrils secured his hands behind his back. Aquilla's head fell back as sweat began to bead on his forehead and flush rejuvenated his pale face and blue tinged lips.

'Damn you, Orion,' he hissed, panting. Lucius looked down to find Orion's eyes fixed on Aquilla. He smirked, petting Orion's hair. Aquilla was horrified.

'Please, O-' he couldn't finish the word as he shivered and groaned, trying to fight the sensations.

'Please, what?' Orion purred, moving himself off Lucius' lap and to the floor.

'Stop it!' Aquilla pleaded, voice cracking, writhing against his bonds. Orion crawled the short way to Aquilla's chair, stopping at the darker haired boy's ensnared feet.

'Stop what?' he asked innocently. Aquilla's body fell limp, panting heavily, shaking feebly.

'This,' he managed. Orion cocked his head as Lucius tore of his shirt and set about removing the rest of Orion's.

'Am I embarrassing you, Aquilla?' he asked, eyes wide and fiery. Aquilla met his gaze and jolted at the intense sensation, bucking against the chair.

'Yes!' he cried pitifully. 'Please, stop!'

'You love me, don't you?' Orion purred coolly.

'Yeeeees,' Aquilla managed through gritted teeth. Orion rested his chin on Aquilla's knee, he watched him gasp for air, back arched against his bonds as the crept across his chest and thighs.

'Then you serve only our master?'

'Of course…' he spat. 'Damn it…'

'And you do his bidding?'

'Nnh…' was all Aquilla could utter as his body was wracked by trembles of the oncoming earthquake.

'Will you answer?' Orion hissed. 'Or will you debase yourself like a common whore at my command?'

'I do his bidding!' Aquilla gasped.

'Then you won't fail him again?'

'I'll… I'll get the Whitcamps tonight…'

'They'll be expecting you now,' Lucius mused. 'I want them surprised.'

'They will die tonight,' Aquilla groaned. 'I'll… make it bloody… and foul and debasing… and… I'll bring you proof!'

'A full belly on your part will serve me well enough,' Lucius mused as Aquilla cried out in lust under Orion's will.

'Then I'll fill it!' he shrieked. 'I'll fill it for you… my master! Tonight!' Aquilla's head tipped back and his whole body stiffened… and Orion closed his eyes. Aquilla stayed still for a few moments as Orion moved back to be petted by Lucius, before opening his eyes desperately, fighting against his bonds.

'What the fuck!' he cursed as Orion licked Lucius' neck like an obedient dog.

'You didn't really think I'd give you your satisfaction when you fail to give me mine?' Lucius sneered. Aquilla whimpered and writhed, the tendrils were unbreakable.

'I'll go then.' Aquilla panted, face a picture of desperate lust as he watched the beautiful Orion nibble at Lucius' ear and elicit a mew of pleasure.

'That would be too gentle,' Lucius whispered, raising Orion's chin with a hand, smirking at Aquilla, before capturing Orion's lips in a violent conquest. Orion melted into him, moaning in glee, eyes softly shut and eyelashes fluttering on flushed cheeks. Aquilla locked his jaw, breathing through his nose in short, sharp gasps.

'You should be happy,' Lucius whispered after he broke the kiss, caressing Orion's perfect face with a hand. 'You didn't debase yourself, and now you get a show. That's far more than I'd ever give Perseus if he failed to please me.'

'I… am grateful, then,' Aquilla panted, before his chair swung around and parked itself next to the arm of the chaise long. Orion slid from Lucius' tender grip and down between his parted thighs. With shaking hands he reached up and unfastened the starched trousers, sliding them off with gentle care and attention. His eyes glinted hungrily. Aquilla let out an almost silent moan as he longed for them to be on him again. Lucius smirked.

'Continue,' he instructed Orion when he waited for his next command. Orion, silent, reached up removed the final item of Lucius's clothing, his eyes glowing like embers in the dim light of the room. Lucius violently snatched up a handful Orion's hair and tilted up his head sharply, extending the boys slender neck. He gasped, but it was filled with a desperate lust that did nothing to dampen Aquilla's painful excitement.

'You have been waiting for that, haven't you?' Lucius asked softly, ignoring Aquilla's wanton shuffling from his perfect view point. Even if the boy shut his eyes, Orion was particularly vocal. Lucius sneered. Orion blinked up at him, with the most perfect expression on his face. What a clever little creature he was. With a violent yank, Orion was dragged forward until his chin was resting on Lucius' groin, his eyes still locked with his masters. He did not protest, but Lucius could feel his pulse hammering against him through the boy's jugular. Aquilla averted his face, cursing under his breath. His heightened senses were betraying him. He was intoxicated. Slowly, tenderly, Lucius extracted his hand and allowed Orion to fall back onto his knees, shirt hanging off him in sensual disarray. He didn't need to be instructed on what to do next. Aquilla watched on tenterhooks as slowly Orion edged forward, little pink tongue visible and mouth opened a fraction, before popping out to run itself across Lucius's tip the way a cat would lap at milk. Lucius shivered, and braced himself against the chair with one hand. The other trailed up to caress Aquilla's cheek. The boy shivered at the touch, but did not resist. Lucius was satisfied by the little moan that reverberated through his fingertips. Orion, ever so slowly, took the shaft into one hand, and tenderly kissed down the other side, sending heightened sparks of fiery desire and pleasure through Lucius' torso. He groaned. Orion moved back along painfully slowly with a series of laps, before tickling at the sensitive vein with his tongue.

'Damn,' Aquilla spluttered, as if feeling it through the hand on his cheek. Lucius was watching, panting heavily.

'Stop teasing me,' he growled. Orion smiled, purring against the side of the shaft and watching it jump a little.

'You are too tense,' he purred against the soft skin. 'You must relax…' With a flawless movement he moved to the head, licking and kissing at it, pressing his lips around it. Lucius growled. Orion was just waiting for him to give. He was the master, and Orion the servant, but this servant could be very persuasive if he wanted. Lucius leant over and turned Aquilla's head, pressing soft kisses to the lips before forcefully invading the inexperienced mouth with tongue, eliciting groans of confused joy. Within seconds, the power balance had tipped again, and Orion had opened up and allowed Lucius entry. He moved slowly up and down about half the length, tickling and caressing with his tongue, grazing with the perfect firmness with his straight, perfect teeth. Lucius, despite getting his way, was enjoying the sensation of his almost unwilling Aquilla's kiss, and deepened it, eliciting a breathless gasp from the reluctant young man. Orion, feeling ignored, moved faster, massaging the base with his hands, demanding the focus. Lucius couldn't concentrate under the barrage, and his face slipped from Aquilla's, and he leant against the young man's forehead, gasping. Aquilla's mouth hung a little open as he watched, whimpering in ill contained desire. Orion purred skilfully as he made accommodations from the invading organ. Lucius' head fell back, his back arching off the sofa as he gasped.

'Damn,' he hissed. Aquilla had his eyes pinched shut and his face averted, but his breathing was shallow, and his slightly pointed ears flicking at every slightest noise. With an odd sort of wet noise Orion pulled back, panting hot flurries of air over the twitching head.

'Are you… relaxing?' he asked breathlessly. Lucius let out an impassioned growl and snatched up Orion's hair again, pulling the boy up and into his lap with little resistance. Orion, his pale chest dipping and rising in quick, rejuvenating breaths, linked his arms around Lucius' neck and pulled himself up tight, feeling Lucius' trembling hands trace lines down to his trousers.

'You weren't finished,' Orion whispered.

'Why waste it on something so trivial as foreplay?' Lucius purred into the boy's neck, feeling him tense deliciously at the sensation. Aquilla whimpered.

'Quit your complaining,' Lucius snapped at the meek looking boy. 'I am being lenient, am I not?'

'Of course, master,' Aquilla mumbled weakly, eyes pinched shut and averted. Orion helped Lucius derobe him, before straddling his hips, still clinging to his master. Lucius glared at Aquilla.

'Look at me when you address me,' he growled. Aquilla's eyes fluttered open.

'But, sir…' he began, but the icy feeling in the passion heated air brought Aquilla's head up and made it turn to face his master, only to clash eyes with the burning Orion, before his eyes involuntarily and briefly traced the contours of his androgynous form. He looked away with a pained gasp.

'Don't make me look!' Aquilla whined. 'I can't, I can't!' The vines tightened on his throat and choked a sob, before crawling up over his cheek.

'You can,' Lucius purred. 'It's a thing of beauty.' Aquilla's face was turned to face Lucius, and their eyes met. Aquilla found tears welling up, and he pinched them shut.

'Just… let me go and deal with the Whitcamps,' he begged.

'I'm not done with you yet,' Lucius purred. Orion was still frozen, pressed against him, eyeing the now shivering Aquilla.

'You… Please, sir!' Aquilla begged. 'I can't…'

'You weren't complaining before,' Lucius pondered. Aquilla intook a sharp breath.

'I…'

'You're a very odd, perverted young man, Aquilla,' he suggested, watching Aquilla flinch at the terms. 'I suppose one could call it a vaguely endearing feature.'

'Let me go,' Aquilla begged. Orion slowly glided out of Lucius' lap into the little space between his master and the arm of the chaise, before moving his face up close to Aquilla's without touching him. Aquilla's eyes were pinched shut, black fans of lashed fluttering against his cheeks.

'Do you remember when I gave you lust for your disobedience to our master?' he purred, millimetres from Aquilla's lips. Aquilla said nothing. 'Then you remember I told you that you would not forget where your loyalties lay again?' Aquilla bit his lip. Orion smiled.

'Did you forget? Did you forget that you are a servant to your master, and that it is your job to do his every bidding?'

'No,' Aquilla murmured, eyes pinched shut. Orion moved back a little and traced his finger across the other boy's lips, watching him jolt against his confines.

'Then why do you try and deny him?' Orion asked dryly. Aquilla said nothing, and was greeted with a burning hand slapping him hard across the face so that his head was thrown against the high wood back of the chair. He groaned in pain. A tendril plugged his mouth. His eyes opened to meet with Orion's cold amber gaze. Aquilla felt something inside him die a little under that hate. Orion suddenly gasped and his head fell forward onto Aquilla's shoulder. The hand that had dealt the blow dug pointed fingertips into the other boy's arm, it's opposite digging into the arm of the chaise. From where Aquilla was, though his vision seemed shaken by the heavy beating of his heart, he could not see where Lucius' hand was, but he could tell what it was doing. Orion let out a shriek, biting down sharply on Aquilla's shoulder, sending waves of pain and a twisted pleasure through the bound boy's system.

'Jesus,' he spluttered as Orion whimpered. Lucius stroked Orion's back as he trembled.

'Such a good little thing,' he whispered in a sick, possessive tone that nauseated his captive, but seemed to please the now shaking and purring Orion. Aquilla, somewhere between arousal and revulsion, gave an indiscernible groan. Both of Lucius's hands came back into view, clamping around Orion's gently curving hips. Orion moved back a little, releasing Aquilla's collarbone, and revealing a pair of sharp, fast receding teeth under the slightly puffy lips of Orion's perfect mouth, which hung open lightly. His eyes were almost shut and slightly misted. Aquilla was almost disgusted by what his mind had done to the lust this creature had infected him with, and now how he was totally intoxicated with such a pathetic depraved beast. Aquilla mentally reprimanded himself for calling the boy that. If what he idolised was a 'pathetic depraved beast', than what the hell was he? His thoughts were interrupted again by him forcefully pinching his eyes shut as Lucius drew Orion back to cradle him in his lap and make conquest on his mouth. Aquilla's head was once again locked in place by the vines. He felt himself choking on a desperate sob, partly because his hardness was becoming painful, and partly because what Lucius was doing to his petite porcelain puppet was something he could only dream of, and was forced to endure. To take him into his arms, to caress that velveteen skill, to listen to the humming thuds of his racing pulse against his own. To possess. To own. To keep. Orion groaned loudly as Lucius' hand slipped lower, and he released himself from the kiss with a protest.

'Surely this is not relaxing you?' Orion asked in a coy purr. Lucius did not answer, but his face disappeared behind Orion's profile and elicited high, airy gasps from the mastered instrument of Orion's throat. Orion, lost in the moment, was still brought back a little by the hollow black gaze that bored into him, and though his eyes did flicker towards it, no contact was made. Aquilla winced as Orion jerked and yelped.

'The names of the children,' Lucius ordered, moving down the chaise a little and moving Orion off his lap. The chair spun away from the arm of the chaise and returned to it's previous position. Aquilla's face was forced to face front, and receive a full frontal shot of the rather aroused Lucius Malfoy, knuckle deep in Orion.

'J-Jaques…' Orion began, crying out as Lucius toyed with him. 'Clllaude, and… and… Ah!' From all fours, Orion's arms buckled as Lucius forced his head into the velvet.

'And?' He snarled. Orion moaned piteously, and was rewarded with two fingers brutally joining the first. He shrieked.

'Madeline!' he bawled. 'Madeline!' Tears paused at the corners of his eyes. A sharp gasp escaped him as Lucius let up.

'Very relaxing,' he sneered, before grabbing a handful of Orion's hair and pulling his head up. 'Hands on the arm.' Shivering, but quite clearly in control, Orion did as requested. He legs parted a little further as if on queue. Lucius got onto his knees, and shot a look at Aquilla. Aquilla said nothing, merely returned his gaze with a hollow, dead glare. Lucius smirked.

'That's the effect I wanted,' he purred serenely. The vines began to loosen around Aquilla's head. Lucius kneaded Orion's hips and bent to blow lightly upon him. Orion let out a small, protesting sound, but did not resist as Lucius inevitably clutched him tighter and positioned himself. Aquilla's head fell a little slack, before limply erecting itself. Orion shivered as the light from the fire flickered over his figure, before he contorted as Lucius took the plunge. An unholy, animalistic shriek echoed through the carved arches and hollow spaces of the manor as Orion arched back, eyes wide and pale, mouth open as he bawled out the pain. He froze himself there, rigid, containing Lucius fully, whimpering and muttering words in some unintelligible dialect of a foreign language, hissed through sharp teeth. Lucius, panting a little, caressed him, cooing to him, calming him. If Aquilla had cared, he would have been sickened by this conceited, possessive affection. Orion gripped the edge of the chaise, teeth gritted, quivering and hissing through his teeth as he tried to re-accustomise himself. It had been a long time. Lucius began to pull back and Orion sobbed harrowingly at the movement. The vines began to recede from Aquilla's neck.

'Be quiet,' Lucius ordered, and Orion bit his lip hard, the slits of his eyes seeping fire and tears. His chest rise and fell swiftly and shakily, and he made a throaty noise as Lucius ploughed back into him. His head wrenched back and he groaned through his teeth in rapture, eyes burning like hellish flame as the fire began to die in the hearth. The walls seemed to bend a little, creaking horrifically. Lucius's violent thrusts quickened, and he did not complain when Orion screamed and a little blood began to trickle down his smooth inner thigh after a particularly forceful motion. The door rattled, it's hinges protesting, and the last flickers of the fire flared blue. Lucius' hand instinctively crept under Orion, and he gripped him, eliciting a jerky shiver from the reeling creature. Aquilla, numbly, could see his flesh-shredding teeth begin the lengthen in rapture, and his throaty cries become more desperate, more lust filled, and more animal. If Lucius couldn't control him, he had no doubt that his mixed breed idol would swing around and feast on the human bastard's flesh. As the vines receded from Aquilla's torso, Lucius growled a little, releasing Orion and shoving him away, eliciting more than one gasp from the shaky figure. Within in seconds he hand yanked Orion into his lap by the hip bones, and he sat the boy against his stiffness and he claimed his hungry lips once again. Aquilla felt a sickening hollowness empty behind his solar plexus as a thick streak of slippery gore slithered from Lucius' lips, down Orion's chin, before slinking along his jaw and down the curvature of his throat. He silently tried to suppress it, before reprimanding his human self and letting it flow. This was to his advantage, whether Lucius' was aware of it or not. He felt a deep growl exit his throat as his legs were slowly released, and Orion straddled Lucius' hip, claiming deeper inside his master's lips. It wasn't long before he was sliding down upon his length, and Lucius was free to let his head roll back as his pleasure was served to him on a silver-skinned platter.

'Is this…' Orion muttered thickly through blood stained teeth as he completed seating himself. 'relaxing?' Lucius trailed a hand up Orion's back, before clasping the back of his neck.

'Shut up,' he hissed. 'And don't stop.' Blood slipped from his already reddened lips and Aquilla felt his pupil's lengthen. Orion, ever serving, complied, and this new position and his own masterful skills sent Lucius reeling into a whole new dialect of Babylonian. His back arched as blows were placed down upon his already enflamed lust, and his hips bucked of their own accord. Orion was getting the responses he craved, and his own sensations were beginning to soar. He whimpered as Lucius forced himself deeper. Aquilla flicked the fingers on his now free hand as the vines continued to recede. His gums had begun to itch. Lucius' head rolled in pleasure, his fingers pressing against the flesh of Orion's waist with such force that his fingertips and the blush-heated skin onto which they pressed were blanched. Orion was becoming impatient, and he bucked harder and faster down upon Lucius' thrusts, chewing his lip and whimpering as the shaft created friction again his sensitive inner wall. Aquilla felt the growl exiting his throat before he heard it, his hollow heart thundering in his ears like the beat of a war drum. Lucius let out a sudden, ragged gasp, and near froze, before pushing hard and sending Orion, screeching, over the edge and over his chest. There were maybe one or two more, feeble, stacatto gyrations of Lucius' body, before he slumped against the chaise, Orion falling briefly atop him, before delicately extracting himself. With a purring rush, Aquilla was at Lucius' chin, lapping at the gore upon his neck, his tongue seeking the racing pulse. Lucius pushed him off, and Orion, shakily gathering his garments, was immediately pounced upon, Aquilla's desperate growls humming against his sweat-sheened skin. Orion's fingers clenched the sofa as sharp teeth grazed his skin, and he slowly shut his eyes. There was a sudden flush of cold air and dog-like yelp as Lucius' foot collided with Aquilla's side and he shuddered away, growling.

'Get you gone,' Lucius hissed, voiceless. Aquilla, eyes glinting, grinned, and with a horrible, leathery sound, vanished to all but a light-swallowing shadow, which, as it passed seamlessly and swiftly through the thick glassed window pane, took on the form of some hellish bat, and vanished into the night. Without further instruction, Orion had pulled on his trousers, and carrying his clothes under one arm he sashayed out of the room, closing the door silently and allowing Lucius to reclaim his mind from the haunts of his passions, before changing for dinner.

Orion purred as he looked back on that moment. He had been forbidden from bothering his 'master' since that day. He flicked his collar pensively, remembering Lucius' reaction to his unseen presence on Halloween Sunday. How delightfully angry he had been. Orion helped himself decadently to a Belgian chocolate from the box beside him, before snuggling down into the copious armchair some more. He allowed himself a sigh of satisfaction as the truffle melted on his tongue. Chocolate was not something he had tasted before he came here. He enjoyed it almost as much blood licked off someone else lips. It was a siren thing. He supposed it was a veela thing too. He'd seen how bloodthirsty they could get, though it was a mere shadow compared with the utter darkness of a siren's heart. He smirked at his own excellence, swathed in midnight blue velvet, a string of her ladyship's topaz's hanging around his slim throat as the maid next door was flogged for stealing them. The sound of her agony pleased him somewhat. He sighed, eyes wandering to his fingertips. What masterful fingertips they were. Before Lucius had found him, he had spent his lonely, orphaned, abandoned days doing exactly what he had pleased- enticing people to their untimely, gory deaths with his peerless beauty and charm. Not a lot had changed. He sucked on a finger, the action bringing back to his mouth the taste of the chocolate, followed by the last thing he had eaten. Human liver. He moaned in delight at the flavour. He had so enjoyed that. Chimera venom had little effect on him, except perhaps as a mild euphoric. The chimera hated and feared him, so, naturally, did as they were told. He had only needed the chimera for one purpose- it's venom. It, at his command, had pounced on the helpless Evelyn and filled him with it. After that, Orion had dismissed it, and spent hours at play with the now intoxicated body of the young man. Defenceless, his muscles all in complete spasm, and the venom keeping his brain and heart working, Evelyn's eyes had spewed tears and looks of agony and misery and longing and disgust and horror. Until, naturally, Orion had gouged them out and force fed them to the wretched creature. It hadn't been long after that the boy's body had finally given in, and in the throes of his death, Orion's monstrous claws had torn his organs asunder and he had devoured them hungrily, one by one. Finally, he had gorged on the liver, before leaving the rest to a few lurking beasts of the night. To be fair, there hadn't been much. That did not bother him. Orion slipped lower in the chair, enjoying the gorgeous wrath of the yellow fire as it lapped and crackled nearby. After spending fourteen years out in the cold, surviving on the heat of the sun and the kill, he had to admit that fire was the thing he probably most enjoyed about living here. Everything else... well, he could get that anywhere. He heard the door open. He inhaled, and smirked. His sense of smell, as keen as any, detected cologne. Expensive cologne. Orion involuntarily smirked. They were alone now. Aquilla had been locked in the dungeon for mouthing off, and all the snotty, irritating, probing 'guests' had quite rightly bogged off. Orion quashed his smirk and faked (very convincingly) a yawn. This was swallowed by a yelp of surprise as the armchair was kicked over and fell hard on top of him. He collided with the wood floor hard, the side table collapsing too and chocolates scattering over the floor. He peeped out from under the chair and whined. He put a hand down to try and lever the chair off his back when a booted foot came down hard on it. He cried out like a wounded bird, flapping his other arm and squawking horribly.

'You killed Evelyn,' Lucius' cool voice hissed. Orion did not answer, his teeth bared in dislike, shuffling under his chair-made prison.

'Admit it!' Lucius hollered, twisting his heel.

'Yaaah!' Orion bawled, his voice bitonal, feathers scattering out from under the chair and his hand burning red hot. Lucius increased the pressure, listening to the more frenzied squawks and shrieks coming from under the chair.

'Tell me you did it!' he commanded. Orion ignored him, his hand igniting in protest. The dragon hide boots were unscathed. Frustrated and in pain, Orion's voice wailed out a horrible protest.

'Shut up!' Lucius commanded. 'Shut up, shut up, shut up!' With that, he kicked the chair off the horrific beast and cast a Spell at it. It slammed through a sofa, knocking it over, and into the wall, dislodging years of dust, sending portraits flying. There was a long, horrible silence, before a frightfully pale head became apparent as it straightened up, glaring maliciously, eyes full of red fire, lips draw back over sharp teeth and thick black claws replacing fingertips.

'How dare you-'

'How dare you even speak after what you've done,' Lucius snarled. Orion growled at him, shoulders rising, eyes burning at him in anger and pain.

'I will-'

'You will not.' Orion shut his mouth, his fine hair in disarray and clotted with blood seeping from a wound in his scalp. Lucius' mouth was pressed into a thin, pale line of dislike. 'I have just spent the last 24 hours cleaning up after you. Writing letters, arranging funerals... do you have any idea what you've done!' Orion relaxed, smirking nastily, his features becoming his mask again.

'I was hungry,' he said lightly.

'My servants would bring you fresh meat if you asked for it!'

'I don't want fresh meat!' Orion spat. 'I have to kill-'

'Not without my permission,' Lucius snarled. 'You are mine! Do you hear me? Mine! You do as you are told, when you are told, and nothing else. You never kill a Malfoy, do you hear me? Never! You never kill anyone without my permission. NEVER!' He kicked the side table. It broke. Orion glared feverently, teeth locked in a jagged line.

'Say it,' Lucius demanded. 'Say it, or suffer my wrath.' Orion snarled. A curse shot out of his want, and Orion screamed, skin bubbling up on his arm where he had thrown it up in defence.

'Stop!' He screamed.

'Who is your allegiance to?'

'Lucius! Always to you, my master!' Lucius paced across the room to glare down as his quarry wriggled on the floor.

'And what does your master tell you?' Orion opened teary watery yellow eyes.

'To not kill again... without his permission.'

'And what are you going to do about Evelyn?' Lucius asked softly. Orion eyed him meekly.

'I...' he began, before stopping. 'I'll invade their minds, burn the memories away...' Orion whimpered at his boil covered arm. 'I'll make them all forget... for you and your nobility, my master.' Lucius lowered his wand slowly, and Orion crawled to his feet, grovelling, pawing at his legs.

'My master,' he whispered. 'My wonderful, powerful, incredible master...' Lucius did not look at him, but kicked him out of the way. Orion whimpered like a discarded puppy, eyeing Lucius balefully, cradling his infected arm. Lucius paced away, righting the chair, before slumping into it. Orion began to creep over.

'Stay where you are,' he snarled. 'Those boils stink.' Orion mewed weakly, eyeing Lucius past the wrecked sofa. His eyes caught his master's silver pair, and Lucius, frowning, gave him, tossing a tub of ointment to the animal boy. He lathered it on, flexing his fingers as the boils slowly deflated and disappeared.

'You will visit the Rottering-Malfoy's tonight,' Lucius commanded. Orion nodded, blood trickling down the vulnerable curve of his throat. 'Tomorrow morning I will send up the staff one by one. Am I clear?' Orion nodded sharply, bending his elbow as his arm hissed and paled. Lucius frowned.

'I...' he paused. 'I have a task for you,' he said gently. Orion looked up keenly.

'What do you desire?' he asked cordially, as if the blood falling from his skull was nothing. Lucius sighed, examining his finger nails.

'I need him back,' he whispered. Orion tensed up.

'Oh?' he choked. Lucius frowned.

'Yes,' he confirmed. 'His absence disturbs me.' He shook his head. 'No... it is more than that. I must check upon his progress. He has a ridiculous habit of getting into things too deep, and then getting stuck.'

'One would think by this age he could cope with getting himself out,' Orion drawled. Lucius threw a wine glass at him.

'A little less of that disrespect, Orion,' he snapped. 'You've already filled your quota for the week.' Orion said nothing, seething, shards of glass glinting on his cheeks. Lucius eyed the fire. 'I need you and Aquilla to find him.'

'Aquilla cannot concentrate in my presence, master,' Orion commented. Lucius nodded.

'True enough,' he said with a small smile. 'That's why I will send you where you are needed, and him on reconnaissance.' Lucius got to his feet, pacing towards the fireplace. Orion watched him go surreptitiously. 'We must find him... before He does. He will use him against us.'

'Yes...' Orion murmured. 'A pity we couldn't just rid ourselves of the problem-'

'We will,' Lucius cut in dangerously. 'When we defeat Him. More than half His ranks have turned from Him. They fear His power, but they have hearts. Sacrificing our children was when He took a step too far.'

'It was a terrible day,' Orion mewed blankly. Lucius walked back to his seat.

'Go and get ready,' he said calmly. 'You will find out what has happened to him... and whatever else you can dig up of use.' Orion nodded, getting to his feet. 'You leave tomorrow evening.'

'Don't worry yourself, my master.' Orion's eyes sparkled at the prospect of freedom. 'Your darling Orion will not let you down. Draco will be discovered.' He smiled sweetly, an image a tiny shiverring wretch clouding across his eyes. 'As soon as I have news of him, you shall hear of it.'

'Good.' Lucius examined his fingernails as the boy left. 'I would expect no less from you.' With his head facing away from the door, he was unaware of the grin that marred Orion's mouth.

_Find him! People don't disappear! He's plotting against me! I must crush him... I must have control!_

'Harry, you alright?' Ron shocked him awake and Harry sat up with a horrible gasp. He glared around blearily. His eyes fell on a large ball of silver-grey. Chudley was curled, asleep, against Silver's tiny form. He had slept through it all. Harry frowned, rubbing his burning scar, the carriage gliding along in the predawn light.

'Yeah,' he said. 'I'm fine.'

* * *

A/N

Bwahahahahaa! BWAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!

Do you have any idea of how difficult it is to write this shit? Gawd oO

Please, keep on reading! It's worth it! Maybe oO LOVE YOU!


	11. Chapter 11

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 11

Disclaimer: My hands smell like beer.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: _

_Also warnings... : This story is quite dark. I think black becomes me._

A/N

http/adultfan. my adultfanfiction addie, OK? Later chapters might be too bad for poor innocent little MYAH HAH HAH!

And for the purpose of Penndragonne, Durmstrang is in Siberia.

This chapter starts with a flashback. Bear with it.

* * *

Dark. The clouds that boiled overheard were slashed open with violent stormy streaks of violet, electric, luminescent and deadly. A storm of magic. A storm of hate. A storm that would consume them all. Inside the castle, the first and second years were holed up with some of the prefects. Out here, face down in the mud, was everyone else. Some were already dead. When the wards had shattered, many had been shot down as they ran, before the populace were immobilised. The air was thick, noxious, creeping into the captives as they lay in the sodden, invasive earth, clogging them with fear and misery. Surely someone would come. Surely someone could stop this. Harry had forgotten that hope. Voldemort had already killed six through his torture. Patsy Parkinson and Ginny were still alive, panting into the floor in ragged choking gasps, their time ticking down. When Voldemort tired of whiling out his waiting with this subject, he would move on. Pansy had surprised Harry. She didn't have a dark mark, and therefore and incurred the Dark Lord's wrath. But she wasn't the most surprising hostage. At that very moment, the air was pulsating with the straining, hideous, cracking screams of Draco Malfoy as the Cruciatus twisted a thousand invisible knives into him for fifth or sixth time. Three Hufflepuffs were being hung from invisible nooses, choking to death under their own weight. However, all eyes, if not shut, were drawn, blearily, to the twisting, twining, ruffled figure on the floor. Suddenly, the glow from Voldemort's wand changed colour. His voice trickled forth like insidious poison.

'Take up that blade,' he hissed. Slowly, the contorted figure became human again, sitting up, shivering. Silver eyes were a murky grey, pupils dilated near swallowing all of the colour. Slowly, a hand snaked forth, three broken fingers hanging limp, as the other two clutched around the blade's handle. A small groan of pain managed to breathe forth from bloodstained lips. The death eaters watched with grim satisfaction. Most of them feared Malfoy, but didn't like him. This seemed to be a sort of... just desserts for the pompous pale prat and his puffed up brat of a son.

'Now,' Voldemort whispered. 'Tell everyone present why you are suffering.' Malfoy's head, his white-blonde hair clotted with blood and grime, turned up to look at Voldemort, foolishly imploring. Wormtail kicked him, sending him flying against the dirt. He didn't even manage to get up before the imperious intensified and he bawled out his words.

'I... I won't join you... not yet... and I... flagrantly ignore your requests upon me... which is not befitting of a son of someone... of my father's stature...' He broke off, suddenly shrieking as Voldemort's curse made him squeeze the blade of the knife, the slick metal biting into his palm.

'Try harder,' Voldemort purred. Harry groaned into the mud, unable to look away as the pain nearly took out his eyesight. Surely someone would come? Where was Dumbledore!

'I'm a traitor!' Malfoy screamed as blood gushed from the open wound. He fell sideways and knife flashed away. He panted, obviously fighting, his bleeding hand close to his body. There was thunder above and on the ground as Voldemort stepped forward, pacing in measured steps towards the quivering, panting body of the boy.

'Now,' Voldemort whispered, raising his wand. Malfoy, groaning, was forced to stand, his face as if attached to the wand like a puppet. 'Where are your friends?' Suddenly, from the crowds, about fifteen children stood bolt upright, and then suddenly realised their predicament. Near to Harry, Blaise Zabini stood, quaking, biting his lip.

'Your friends...' Voldemort continued. 'Who like you, refuse to show fealty...' Voldemort sighed. 'A pity. Some fine wizards are among your number. However, your parents have shown me their allegiance. Having you are children is an insult to them. Wormtail!' The small man hefted forward, his metal fingers flexing. Malfoy's eyes narrowed and took focus. He fell down, crawling away. At the click of Voldemort's fingers, Wormtail pursued him, snatching up his leg with a sickening crack. All the standing children, along with Malfoy, crumpled, howling in agony.

'Now you see,' Voldemort said coolly to all gathered. 'When you hurt me with your misdemeanour, you hurt everyone. How selfish...' Malfoy didn't have the energy to retort. Voldemort's wand flicked, and in seconds Malfoy was crawling back towards him, face set in a grimace of pain and resistance. A trembling, pale hand reached out and took up the blade. With some disgust, Harry realised that the other captives were doing the same, but without a knife, including Ginny, blood already pouring from pale lips and trickling down her chin. Hermione, who was lying on his head to stop him from being seen, choked down a sob. Like some terrible emblem, Malfoy, eyes darting to the blade fearfully, raised the knife high, the purple lightning above glinting off its clean, sharp planes. Voldemort watched coolly.

'Repent,' he hissed. Malfoy hung his head, panting horribly, mumbling. Voldemort's eyes narrowed into their vicious snakelike slits of rouge terror.

'Repent!' He snapped. Lightning cracked over head, as Draco Malfoy slammed the blade into his abdomen, head falling back and crying out in torment. Hermione jumped, and Harry closed his eyes. Why wasn't anyone coming? He couldn't do anything- Hermione and Ron were holding him down. Besides, what could he do? He was just the same as the children up there, screaming as their life fled their bodies in thick surges of gore. Pansy screamed as the invisible blade made contact, death eaters nearby blasting her and Ginny with the Cruciatus. Curses whizzed into the crowd, striking the standing youths with agony. Gibbering, mindless, lost to Voldemort's command, Malfoy dragged the blade out of his body, eyeing it in terror as blood spilled over his lips. He allowed himself a sob, before Voldemort flicked the wand again, and he raised the blade, slashing down wildly across the blanched flesh of his arms. Harry bit down as surging pain shot through his skull.

...You're next...

Harry groaned as the pain flooded him, Ron leaning down hard on his legs and he kicked. Malfoy, panting, toppled over sideways, and there was a flash of red light. Harry heard and felt the agony of Voldemort's anger, and then there was nothing.

Everything went dark.

Harry woke up with a start, wand drawn like some over excited magical cowboy. Ron rolled over on the velvet seat, snoring. Harry got up from his place on the floor and plonked himself back on his seat. He peered out of the window, into the pre dawn blue. They were coming up on Hogsmeade, and had just touched down, which had shocked him awake. Apparently, it had awakened Silver as well, who stretched, catlike, yawning, from his den inside Harry's jumper. Harry scooped him up, all sleepy and floppy and warm, and held him close. Silver, who kicked a bit in resistance, then promptly fell back to sleep, coiling close to Harry's body. Harry was pleased by this. Apparently having to fend for himself in the creepy old manor house for a couple of days had persuaded Silver that perhaps company wasn't that tragic.

Sitting in the Great Hall at breakfast, Harry Ron looked as bad as they felt.

'I cannot cope with Snape today,' Ron moaned as Silver took deep rejuvenating drafts from a cup of milk. Harry had refused him coffee on the grounds that it was evil. Harry poked his bacon drowsily.

'Hermione will flay us if we don't go,' he said morbidly. 'Especially you.'

'Why especially me?'

'Because I'm scary when I'm angry, apparently,' he said easily. Ron raised an eyebrow, before smirking and shaking his head.

'That's what you get for kicking over tables, you hormonal prat. Now, before you knock it flying, pass me the jam.' Harry complied, but not before Silver had hissed at him, and had clumsily used a knife to dislodge a portion of it onto his saucer. Ron watched blankly, before relieving Harry of the pot.

'Freak,' Ron hissed at the dragon, before allowing Chudley to take an ample bit out of the other side of his toast. Harry raised an eyebrow. Ron frowned.

'I don't know what you're staring at,' he grumbled. 'Penndragonnes eat whatever their masters eat.' Harry frowned, looking between his and Silver's plates. Harry was drinking tea while Silver had wanted coffee, refused tea, knocked over the orange juice in disgust and had settled, sulkily, on milk. Harry was eating bacon, eggs, fried bread, wholemeal toast and tomato. Silver had chosen dry sweet cereal, a half slice of white toast with apricot jam and a slice of fruit. It was as if he was deliberately trying to pick the lighter opposites of Harry's breakfast choices. Harry made an in descript grumbling noise, deciding that that was all it was (contrary little...), before rubbing his eyes and finishing off his breakfast.

'Page three hundred and thirty six- Toxin removing potions and their primary uses.' Professor Snape's greasy voice spread through the echoey dungeon. Harry and Ron were sitting crammed together, thoroughly unimpressed and half asleep.

'We're gonna screw this up,' Harry groaned under his breath. Ron couldn't even muster a reply as he knocked his ink with his elbow, sending it splashing up Blaise Zabini's robes and all over the desk.

'Ron!' Hermione snapped from the other side of him. They hadn't given her a complete low down yet.

'Snorry...' Ron slurred, patting Zabini's wet arm.

'That's... quite alright?' Zabini tried.

'Mister Zabini, a little less of the idle chatter,' Snape growled. Of course, no points were taken, but Zabini immediately bowed his head. Hermione shot Ron a foul look, and Ron seemed to withdraw into himself, hunching and looking thoroughly hurt. A loud tapping on Harry's book made him focus. Silver looked annoyed by his lack of enthusiasm, and despite the incident just a week before, was listening quite attentively, a thieved quill in claw, poised over a scrap of parchment, ready to write detailed and helpful notes. Harry was vaguely thankful for that. Someone had to, he supposed. Snape opened his mouth to begin to dictate what the little snot rags were going to do next, when the door slammed open.

'Professor Sna-'

'What is the meaning of this outrageous interruption!' Snape hollered. Harry was impressed. Being able to switch from dull dictation to full on frenzied screech owl mode was an impressive skill. Snape was a talented guy. The small boy (no more than third year) flapped his mouth like a goldfish, but Snape continued.

'Normal people knock when they come to a closed door. It's called common courtesy. However, that's obviously something they fail to teach you in...' he squinted. 'Hufflepuff. That's 50 points from you boy,' the boy in took a sudden, sharp breath, as if he'd been stabbed. More than likely he was imagining what his housemates were going to do to him when they heard about this...

'Now,' Snape hissed, looking content with the effect he'd had on the boy. 'Get out of my sight. If you have to see me, you can do it after school-'

'But sir!' The boy piped up. 'I'm supposed to see you now. Professor Dumbledore...' The boy trailed off, eyes widening a little. Even through his sleep vision, Harry could see why. Snape was hunched like a monotone vulture with a back problem. Snape hated being interrupted. Now, he had managed to do some damage to a helpless innocent, he had imagined he'd be able to get on with things. No such luck. Dumbledore was involved. Snape seemed to sink lower to the desk, rage pouring from his form in invisible, noxious clouds. A growl emanated from his form, reminiscent to a irritated starved rhinoceros with a smokers cough induced by that bad pack of fags he bought of a one eyed crocodile back when he was a teen-ocerous. Yes, Harry was half way through a dream about zoo animals.

'What does he want?' Snape ground out between snarls. The boy swallowed hard.

'He... sent me down here to... to get Ronald Weasley, sir...' Snape's eyes, which were bulging a little (Harry mentally noted that this is what happened when Snape's plots were foiled.), clicked onto Ron. He wilted a little, sinking lower into his chair.

'Oh?' Snape said almost cheerily, (again Harry marvelled at his mood swinging skills) sitting up and clasping his hands together. 'You've come to take a student from my class?'

'Th-That's what professor Dumbledore asked me to do, sir. He said it was-'

'Weasley,' Snape snapped, turned once again to Ron. 'Pack up and get out.' Ron blinked a few times, looking bemused, before starting to pack up.

'Tomorrow,' Snape continued. 'You will return to my class room after school, with a complete set of notes on Today's lesson, and prepared to make the potion.' Ron's face fell as if his flesh had sunk down his bones.

'But, sir,' he began.

'Let us hope your companions will lend you some notes to copy from, Mister Weasley,' Snape said gently, his sneer spreading. Chuckles came from a few of the less sympathetic students. Ron grumbled something so quietly that only Harry heard it, and smirked. He swept all of his ink soaked belongings into his rough, beaten up leather satchel and slouched out of the door. Harry heard the small boy apologising as the door swung shut. Blaise magicked away the ink, and the remaining three filled in the gap on the desk, for once being able to sit without knocking each other in the over crowded dungeon.

'Now,' Snape growled, 'Page three hundred and thirty six...'

Harry, having finished his Myth Magic class, headed back up to the common room. Dinner wasn't for another hour, and he was feeling drained. Silver was sitting in his satchel, blinking up at him in a bemused sort of way. It unsettled Harry a little. yes, it was good that Silver wasn't trying to maul him for some unknown crime anymore, but the fuzzy, confused distance that had filled the creature's eyes instead upset him.

'Crookshanks ate my breakfast,' he said dully, and the fat lady, who was combing her long ringlets folded out of the way without so much as a 'how are you?'. Harry trudged inside, hearing the clamour up ahead. Silver clambered up Harry's arm from the bag and clung to his upper arm for a better view, chirping. In the body of the common room there was a huge congregation of Gryffindors. Banners streaked across the beams, blaring

'WELCOME BACK' and 'GET WELL SOON'. People were swigging butterbeer, laughing heartily, and generally having a good time.

'What's all this?' Harry managed, whilst catching and clinging onto Silver as the dragon was buffeted off his shoulder by some rather hyper third years. Hermione raised her head above the motley crew.

'Oh, Harry!' she said brightly. 'it's wonderful!'

'What is?' Harry said, unable to keep the twitching of a smile from his lips in the presence of such positive energy. Seamus Finnegan, whose cold was almost gone, chucked Harry on the shoulder and got out of the way. There, in the centre of the throng, were the sofas and chairs, and sitting on the three-seater, besides a pair of crutches, was Ron, who was ecstatic with brotherly pride, and Ginny Weasley, beaming, blushing, but looking wan, thin and still bandaged under her happy glow.

'Harry...' she said quietly.

'Ginny!' he called back, moving over to sit on the other side of Ron. 'great to have you back!' She smiled. 'How are you feeling.'

'Much better,' she said cheerfully, petting a sleeping Chudley who took up her entire lap.

'Much, much better, thank you. The doctors really did a great job.'

'Are you well enough to be back...?' Harry's eyes grazed over the bandages. Ginny averted her eyes a little.

'I... I'm fine, really. Just a couple of cuts and bruises left. Grazes, really.' She chuckled a little as Ron beamed at her. 'Besides, I hear you and Ron are both studying Medi-Magic. I'm sure you can patch me up if anything goes wrong-'

'Nothing's gonna go wrong,' Ron said firmly, but brightly. 'We're all going to be great now, right, Ginny?' Ginny paused for a second, then nodded.

'Yep. Everything is going to be fine.' Harry smiled, feeling a little pang when he saw the drawn, gaunt look in her eyes.

'It really is great to have you back, Ginny,' he said softly. She looked at him, before smiling broadly, all of her sickness covered in a glamour of her glowing smile.

'I couldn't stay away.'

In Care of Magical Creatures, their main project was underway. Harry had completed his registration, and his detailed diagram, despite Silver's constant wriggling. Today, they were learning a new skill.

'Measuring your dragon is simple enough,' Professor Grubbly-Plank said clearly. 'Weight can be judged with a Peso Charm, which is thoroughly explained in your text book-' Harry's book writhed in its bonds- The Even More Monstrous Book of Monsters was a foe to be reckoned with. 'And length, height and wingspan can all be documented using one of these.' She lifted a tape measure out of a box. 'These measuring devices take precise measurements at your command, providing the dragon is sitting or standing quite still. One at a time, come and collect a tape measure, and remember your commands.'

'I'll get yours for you,' Hermione offered.

'Cheers, 'mione,' Harry said as she walked off... flanked by Blaise Zabini, discussing their Arithmacy homework avidly. Ron looked sour as he poked Chudley's belly with his wand.

'What's up with you?' Harry asked earnestly. Ron huffed.

'Nothin',' he grumbled as Chudley chortled like a infant. Silver sat primly on his favourite tree stump, looking around imperiously. He was the king of all he surveyed. Sleek, svelte, elegant and oddly attractive to butterflies. Right now he had stopped glaring and was trying to flick one off his nose with his tail. He only succeeded in near blinding himself. With a yelp, he staggered back, aghast, and promptly fell into the thick grass.

'Whoopsie daisy,' chortled an enamoured Hagrid, scooping a positively violated Silver and a large quantity of grass into his huge hands. Silver sat stock still, pieces of offending grass poking through the feathers of his wings, and one particularly bold piece poking from his mouth. Harry retrieved him quickly.

'Yer gots t'be careful wit' the littluns,' Hagrid said like an overbearing mother. 'They'r so fragile...' He snuffled, wiping his eyes and moved away.

'It's officially confirmed,' Ron drawled, Chudley clinging to his head like a glue smothered hat. 'Hagrid has finally cracked.'

'I think he should get a Penndragonne,' Harry said, brushing Silver off and placing him back on the stump. 'I mean, they don't grow too big, they're not really dangerous and they're affectionate. They're a dragon that no one could complain or sack him for having.'

'He'd hate it,' Ron said. 'The only one of the Penndragonnes he goes gah gah over is Silver. Hagrid has some strange brain block which makes him be attracted to things that will cause him harm.' Ron shook his head sympathetically. 'Poor blighter.'

'Here you go, Ron,' Hermione said, handing Ron a tape measure, before turning to Harry. 'Professor Grubbly-Plank says we need to do wingspan, total length, girth and tail length. It's the best way to see how well they are developing, apparently.'

'Brilliant,' Ron snarled and Blaise knelt down, removing his large, sleek, handsome dark grey beast from its spot in his bag. The creature yawned, showing off its strong, new teeth, shaking itself out like a decadent cat.

'Oh, isn't he cute!' Hermione purred, petting it. It curled into her with sickening ease, mewing. She laughed again, and Tigerlily began pouncing on its tail.

'Apparently Loki is one of the most advanced, in terms of development, out of the penndragonnes here,' Blaise said genially.

'Oh?' Ron said sharply. 'Did the professor say that?'

'Yes,' Blaise replied serenely. 'Apparently they are all progressing at different rates, some quickly, like Loki, and some rather slow...' his eyes dropped momentarily to Chudley, who was chewing near toothlessly on Ron's fingers, before shooting back up. Ron glowered. 'She's concerned about it.' Ron scooped up Chudley, glowered, and stomped off.

'Ron!' Hermione called after him, but he ignored her. She glared at Blaise.

'I wasn't talking about his Penndragonne!' Blaise said quickly 'He was wriggling so I looked at him, that's all!'

'Then whose Dragon were you talking about?' Hermione bit. 'Hmm? Whose talent were you having a jab at?'

'I wasn't jabbing at anyone!' Blaise snapped. 'But if you must know, Professor Grubbly-Plank is worried about Harry's dragon. The only one that didn't come from the breeder.' Silver, who was grooming his face, shot Zabini a look. Blaise blinked.

'Whoah...' he said sharply. 'He's alert.'

'And touchy,' Harry said stiffly. 'Professor Grubbly-Plank should mind her own business. Silver's small, yeah, so what? He's got more teeth than Tigerlily, who is twice his size, and more brains than some people I know. He takes notes in lessons and everything.'

'I'm not having a go,' Blaise said quickly, Loki wriggling up his robes, 'and I'm sure the professor wasn't either. But you have to admit, he's a bit pint sized, compared with the rest. Doesn't he eat or something? Or exercise?'

'That's a point,' Hermione said before Harry could defend the haughty little creature. 'He doesn't fly, does he?'

'So what?' Harry shot back.

'Not even a flap?' Blaise asked, curiously. 'Loki soars around the common room all evening-'

'-and Tigerlily, despite a few accidents, has been flapping around for more than a week. And even that porker Chudley flies. Better than Tigerlily in fact.' There was an edge to her voice at that comment. 'But Silver, whose obviously far advanced mentally, and dentally,' she winced and the memory of his teeth. 'doesn't fly at all. Maybe his muscles aren't developing properly.'

'He's fine!' Harry persisted. 'If he wasn't, I'd know.'

'Is his wingspan undersized?' Blaise pestered, picking him up off the tree stump, eliciting an indignant honk from the creature. 'Let's see...'

'Hey!' Harry protested, attempting to grab him back.

'Wingspan,' Blaise ordered, and the tape measure. Silver snarled at it prudely, and bit at Zabini's hand, grazing him, when the boy clutched his wing. Blaise jumped a little, and the tape measure paused, before completing its measurements when Zabini had the creature held still. As soon as Zabini released it, Silver sunk it's claws in, making Zabini yelp, before cat leaping onto Harry's lap, clambering across it and back onto his tree stump, his feather in disarray, and his eyes whirling angrily. Zabini noted down the measurement and gave the scrap of parchment to Harry tersely.

'That beast is positively feral,' he snapped. Harry glared.

'He doesn't like to be touched,' he clarified. 'What's the problem?' Loki at this point was butting Zabini's hands, and hissing and spitting at Silver.

'The problem is that that's not natural,' Zabini sneered. Hermione looked flustered. 'And he hasn't got any proper flight feathers. That's why his wings are so small.' Zabini sneered. 'That's not exactly natural either.'

'Shut it, Zabini.'

'Boys! Will you just stop it!' Hermione cut in. 'You're both acting like children. Blaise, I'm sorry Silver bit you, but he's a wild penndragonne and he's very young. he's got quirks. And Harry, he's not normal, but that's no reason to throw a hissy fit. Now, let's just do our work, before the professor makes it round.' Harry and Blaise locked glares, before quietly acquiescing and scribbling down their results. When Harry handled him, Silver behaved a little better. Harry put that down to him being gentler, rather than Silver playing favourites. And Zabini's wingspan measurement had been out by a few millimetres anyway. Harry smirked. Aloof, stuck up bastard. However, he had been right. Silver's flight feathers were soft and curved, rather than the straight stiff feathers proudly being displayed by Tigerlily as she perched perfectly in Hermione's lap. She winked at Silver, who recoiled into Harry's gut, snarling in distaste. Harry and Hermione laughed, which broke the silence perfectly, and Silver bemusedly sulked. Harry had noticed the air-headed air to him since the manor, but had paid it little mind. Silver seemed perky enough. Perky enough to be trying to bite the tape measure that was trying to measure his tail length. Harry had taken to doing three of the same measurement and taking the average, because Silver was such a handful. Once it was all over, Silver was lying on his back, looking positively tragic, exhausted from all the running around and dodging he had been doing. Tigerlily was sitting next to him, prodding him like a worried mother. He kept thwacking her with his tail and grumbling, but she could not be discouraged. Hermione thought it was darling. Harry thought that Tigerlily was a bimbo, but didn't deign to say it.

'Alrigh' class,' Hagrid said thickly, clapping his hands. He was in action mode. 'Now onter th' second part of th' lesson. This shouldn't take yer long, but some dragons can be more troublesome than others.'

'Oh god,' Harry mumbled.

'In order to pass your final test, you have to be able to sex your dragon,' Professor Grubbly-Plank continued. Some students snickered. Hermione rolled her eyes. 'The process in which you sex a Penndragonne is very simple.' She picked up Chudley, since Ron after storming off had settled down near her. 'Ooh, he's a big boy, isn't he?' Harry could see Ron's face (in his mind) turning fuchsia. 'Now, as you can see, Penndragonnes have no obvious genitalia external to their bodies. At this age there are no discerning signs of gender from the outside at all. The process for sexing is thus.' Professor Grubbly-Plank, holding Chudley around the back in one hand, raised her other hand, extending her index finger. She pressed it to the base of Chudley's neck, and ran it down his front to the base of his tail slowly. After a finger was a definite blue streak, which faded a few seconds after being completed. Chatter went up across the grass.

'Congratulations, Mister Weasley,' Professor Grubbly-Plank said cheerily, handing him back. 'It's a boy. Now, class, my self and Hagrid will be coming round, so I expect to see you putting this technique into practise. It may take a few tries at first.' She smiled. 'Some dragons are a bit shy.' While Loki obediently rolled over in Zabini's lap, Harry turned to look at Silver. The penndragonne, sprawled on its back, looked up feebly at Harry, before flipping onto its belly, crouched like a snarling crocodile, and glared. Harry frowned, wincing has he grasped it across the back, and reflexively the creature bit him. Silver didn't bite that much anymore. However, being strangely perceptive, even in his somewhat dazed state, he could sense when his dignity was at stake. This was the same reaction Harry had gotten the night before when he'd suggested a bath. Claws dug in, body stiff and teeth bared. There was no way he was budging this dragon. Blaise Zabini glowered at him, and Hermione thwacked him. Harry could almost sense Ron bristling at her being so intimate with what he perceived as the enemy. Suddenly, though he's managed to forget the stabbing pain in his finger, it came flooding back as Silver released his grip, hacking and coughing and spitting out the sickly metallic liquid that filled it's mouth. It wheezed and hissed, trembling a little, but didn't try and bite again. In fact, Harry managed to pry him away from the block and wipe it's mouth a bit before the dragon realised it was belly up in Harry's lap, and pinned that way due to bracelet. It struggled, howling like a cat defied, but its legs were too short for it to catch hold and roll over, and Harry had it pinned.

'Sorry, mate,' he said, before raising an index finger. Silver stilled, glaring at the finger in a truly violated manner. Somewhere inside, the slumbering Draco Malfoy shuddered in his sleep. Harry, taking the chance, pressed it to the bottom of Silver's throat. Silver swallowed hard, its eyes pinching shut and its body tensing up. Slowly, Harry began dragging his finger down the torso, releasing the hold with his other hand since Silver was now prone. Finally, he reached the base of the tail. And waited. No stripe. He took his finger away, and Silver relaxed a little, its head falling back, relieved. It yelped a strangled cry when Harry's finger raked down its body a second time. No stripe. And again. No stripe. And again. No stripe. Harry groaned. Silver whimpered, stretched out and quite clearly feeling violated. Its eyes were still pinched shut. Hermione, who had finished, sidled over. She tried, pressing a slender finger tip onto the base of the throat and letting it travel down. Silver allowed a sob to escape. But still, no stripe. Tigerlily flounced off Hermione's lap and started poking Silver's belly. He didn't even flick her with his tail. He was too busy trembling and waiting for it to end.

'Havin' trouble ther, 'Arry?' Hagrid said, leaning over them. 'Let me 'av a go.'

Silver's eyes flew open.

Gods, no.

It screamed in horror, but to no avail, as Hagrid's broad finger pinned it to Harry's lap and stroked down. It tensed up, before falling back against Harry's lap, panting and crying meekly. Professor Grubbly Plank came over. Harry felt vaguely inadequate.

'Hrm, there's always a tricky one,' she said haughtily. 'Let's see...' she tried... and failed.

'This little runt's a toughy,' she said. 'Sometimes it works if you try it backwards once, and then the right way around.' She tried. No stripe. Silver was actually crying out now like a booted puppy. 'Perhaps if someone else tries...'

So they all tried.

Up and down.

Twice.

Blaise tried too. Twice.

Somewhere deep inside, the slumbering Draco Malfoy was having a horrific nightmare.

By the time the bell went for the next class, everyone in the class had had several goes, and Harry was still stroking his fingers up and down the now much abused belly.

'He is a little small,' Professor Grubbly Plank sighed, defeated. 'Perhaps he's not developed enough yet.' She turned away, as did the other students.

'Come on Silver,' Harry whispered. Silver's head flapped from side to side, defiant, creeling and mewing.

'Come on!' Harry insisted. Silver whimpered, its mouth cracked open, breath hissing in shallow gasps between its teeth. The class began to walk away. Harry pressed his finger down hard.

'Come-'

Silver screamed. Actually screamed. Its body arched up, it's wings flapped out, it's eyes rolled back and it hollered. A blue line shocked down its gut and it fell back, panting heavily.

'He's male!' Harry managed, grinning in triumph. 'He's a male!' Everyone turned as Harry held the now limp and branded Dragon over his head.

Somewhere deep inside, the slumbering Draco Malfoy had made a sticky mess all over his subconscious.

That night, when they got back to their dormitory, Silver did not bite. He did not snap. He did not respond in anyway. He sat, rigid, staring blinding, and occasionally rocking back and forth long after Harry had bid him goodnight and told him how proud he was.

The sun had long since set. It was a rare clear night on the snow stained country, and Durmstrang castle stuck up like some wicked thorn into the white peppered sky. Students slumbered in their beds. A few were still up, studying or wasting time. A small few were outside, honing their skills at Quidditch, or tending the Herbology gardens. It was around nine pm. In a tall, underfed pine tree, which was all but dead but rather tall, a pale figure sat, wrapped in delicious, sumptuous fur. Hot coal eyes raked over the buildings. A smile graced puffy white lips, revealing sharp, malicious teeth. In a flurry and flutter of wretched feathers, the furs swayed on the branches alone, awaiting the return of their wearer. A dark thing rushed through the moonlight like a cancerous plague, hissing and darting from shadow to hidden blind spot, out of sight to those it needed to survive. With a thud it landed, crouched, on a wall, slowly its face beginning to regain its sleeker nature. It pressed its ear against the wall. The thud thud of the building's spirit droned on above the multiple heartbeats within. The creature steadied itself, preparing itself to use the energy it had acquired when gorging. It pressed itself to the wall, and within seconds a hissing heat spread through the building, melting icicles and sending the students roiling in their beds, hand's tracing lower to assist.

'It's... hot,' one managed to whisper, before falling across the card table humping into his own hand. Hot coal eyes looked on, and narrowed.

'Hotter,' hissing tongue commanded. Cries went up across the school. Steam rose in the night from the roofs.

'Hotter,' the creature moaned into the bricks, feeling the bricks tremble. Lustful moans of pain and pleasure went up across the school.

'Voldemort wants you,' the creature purred, feeling the momentum building. 'Voldemort wants you all. And now... now you are mine... hotter!'

Shrieks and cries.

'Hotter!'

Agony.

'Hotter!'

The screams died as hearts burst and blood sprayed across the building, hissing in the heat, boiling the dying flesh. Orion purred into the building as the temperature rose. He hissed and licked at it, inciting it, making it need him.

'You'll do what I say,' he asked the living rock. The building trembled, drowning in its own blood.

'Die.'

Flames smashed through the roof, howling and roaring into the silent night. The children in the grounds screamed and were struck down by debris and heat. Orion fell away, tumbling in a flurry of feathers. So sleepy, so sated yet... so hungry. He spiralled away, counting. A girl was screaming at the forest's edge. Crying and screaming in horror. There was no energy, no time for play. Orion impacted with her, shattering her bones and crushing her instantly dead body into the ground. In the night, as Durmstrang died, a limp corpse was dragged up into the dead fir by some unmade vulture, and burning eyes flashed in the dark as flesh was devoured in a nest of white furs.

* * *

A/N

Sorry it took so long. I hope it was worth it ;

And an FAQ- Penndragonnes don't normally have to orgasm for you to see their gender. But Silver isn't strictly a penndragonne now, is he?

And yes. Orion is a bitch.

R+R?


	12. Chapter 12

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own the Phantom of the Opera. IN YOUR FACE. Ok, so it's a DVD, but hey. It's still miiiine.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: SLASH! _

_Also warnings... : This story is quite dark. I think black becomes me._

A/N

Not a lot to say really. When I wrote this, I wrote all but the end really quickly. Twas veeeery peculiar. Anyway, here you go.

Oooh, and be prepared to sate your Draco craving.

* * *

'Ginny do you-'

'No Ron, I'm fine.'

'You look tired, I could-'

'No, Ron,' Ginny said firmly. 'I think I can walk down to the Great Hall just fine, thank you.'

'Are you sure?' Ron said quickly, looking ever the bustling over protective big brother. 'I mean, I could carry you, or we could Charm you crutches into-'

'Ron!' Ginny exclaimed exasperated. Hermione and Harry, who had left Ron to it, were walking a short way in front. The three of them had Potions first, and Harry had packed the still sleeping Silver into his bag. He could be counted on to make good notes. Hermione sighed.

'I think Ron's glad she's back,' she said sarcastically. Harry smiled.

'You don't say,' he said cheerlessly, looking out of the window. That dream had troubled him again. That dream about the attack on the school, but it seemed to have got stuck, like an old fashioned film projector. All that he had seen was Draco being forced to cut himself again and again and the exploding of the tower when help arrived… but something about that tower was different. Especially the cascading blood. Harry sighed. He felt exhausted. Repeated dreams exhausted him, and as much as they seemed to be trying to tell him things, they weren't helping. And Voldemort had been quiet for the past few days. That was never a good sign. He and Hermione descended the grand staircase into the entrance hall, before tuning off into the great hall for breakfast.

What they weren't expecting was the wall of noise.

'WHAT DID YOU SAY!' A coarse, snarling voice spat into the face of some poor, relatively innocent fourth year Slytherin. 'You little maggot! You brainless toad! You foul, filthy little…. HUFFLEPUFF!' A pair of clawed hands seized the smaller girl around the throat and shook for all it was worth. Severus Snape, among others, were sweeping down the hall, between the children vying for a look. Blaise Zabini was helping Nuria to wrench the talons away from the blanched victim.

'Pansy!' Blaise growled. 'You've been back for the grand total of an hour and you are already attacking things! Have some restraint!' Pansy Parkinson, who now came into view, wearing a stylish (or so she thought) eye patch over a still bandaged eye and looking suspiciously thinner and wan, hissed and yowling like a cat.

'Make her take it back!' she screeched. 'He needs me! He was dying! Dying! And he needs me!'

'Ten points from Slytherin for your poor form,' Snape grumbled before sweeping away, the teachers checking on the smaller girl, but generally being ignored.

'Nuria,' Blaise said gently. 'Take her back to the common room.'

'The hell I will!' Nuria snapped. 'My coffee will get cold.' Blaise rolled his eyes as Pansy struggled.

'Please, Nuria,' he pleaded. 'She needs rest.'

'Shut the hell up, Zabini!' Pansy howled, clawing his face with her nails as Crabbe and Goyle held her back. 'What do you know? Nothing! You were out there, cowering in the crowd when He came! You did nothing! I went to help him! I suffered for him and I'd suffer again!' Blaise looked blanched. A sickly silence had fallen across the hall. They knew exactly what Pansy was ranting about.

'Students, back to you breakfasts,' Professor McGonagall said hastily. 'Boys, I think this morning has been exciting enough for Miss Parkinson. Mister Zabini is right. If you would take her back to the dormitories, I'll have some breakfast sent up.' Pansy glared out of her one visible eye, her dark hair lying flatly against her head, lifeless. Crabbe and Goyle began to brainlessly hoist her away when she started howling again.

'Where is he?' She screamed. 'He needs me! He's dying! DYING!' She broke free of the boys and staggered forward on unsound legs, crashing into Hermione and knocking her over, before falling against Harry, panting and sobbing. Harry looked vaguely horrified, before the pity kicked in, and he went to help her up, looking apologetically at Hermione who was brushing herself off. Pansy pulled herself up, clinging onto Harry's robes like a buzzard clinging to carrion. She slowly raised her head.

'You did nothing,' she hissed. 'What good are you if you did nothing?' She shoved him a little, staggering after him. Blaise was trying to get through the crowd. Harry didn't say anything. There was an exhausted wildness in her eyes, the same kind that Ginny had ferociously repressed. He had no idea what they had suffered since that day. He felt guilty for knowing that he didn't want to find out. Pansy fixed him with one dark eye, and Harry was surprised to find it filled with tears of a sort different to rage. She began to speak, but not to him.

'I came back to find him… and now he's gone…' she mumbled. Harry could feel her shaking.

'Pansy!' Blaise hissed through the mumbled quiet of the hall, clutching one of her arms

'Let's-' She swung around and struck him hard across the face, before Crabbe and Goyle, at Blaise's shout, grabbed her arms and hoisted her off her feet.

'Let me go!' She howled thrashing and writhing in their grip.

'You alright?' Harry asked Hermione quietly. She nodded, her eyes trailed to where something grey and serpentine was clambering up Harry's robes. Pansy, who was being dragged away, saw it too, and gasped when its silver grey misted eyes locked with hers. Silver let out a peep and perked up its head. As Crabbe and Goyle lumbered out of the hall, dragging the girl with them, she was quiet and still, and kept a strange, mystified eye contact with the dragon until she was out of sight.

'Well, that's enough excitement for this morning,' Professor McGonagall said, ushering those who had not obeyed her first order back to their seats. 'Come along, sit down. You too, Mister Potter.' Harry snapped out of his thought, hoisted Silver into his hands where he wriggled indignantly and sat down for breakfast. As Silver, out of sheer desperation, shoved his head in someone's cup of coffee (Seamus' to be exact. He yielded it), Harry absent mindedly swept butter over his wholemeal toast and eyed the professor's table. Professor Dumbledore hadn't come to breakfast. Harry frowned, raking his hands through his hair as Silver nuzzled the coffee cup lovingly and persuaded Ginny Weasley (who adored him) to pour him another cup. Harry frowned and took it away. Ginny grabbed his arm defensively, before yielding it quickly.

'It's not doing him any harm,' she said quickly. Harry frowned and filled a spare cup with milk. Silver glowered.

'Do you remember what happened when we fed Trevor coke?' Harry asked gently.

'That brown sweet drink that Dean brought from him?'

'That very same stuff.'

'Oh… you mean him bouncing off the walls and squaring up to Crookshanks?'

'Yes.'

'And nearly getting torn in half?'

'Exactly.'

'Oh.' There was overhead as the owls swooped into the hall

'This is a message for all students with relatives at Durmstrang Academy,' Dumbledore's voice boomed out from nowhere above the hall, startling owls as the flopped and flapped down to their owners. A large handsome eagle owl landed on a gap on the Slytherin table, and Blaise Zabini eyed it mournfully. Most of the Slytherin table were looking up, as if at the voice. Harry was startled to see many of the other students were looking up too, including Ron and Ginny.

'You've got relatives at Durmstrang?' Harry asked. Ron sighed.

'Yup,' he said dully. 'Second cousins or something. We've only met them twice. Seemed like nice enough people.'

'You are to wait in the Great Hall for an announcement to be made. All students not concerned shall return to their dormitories, where breakfast shall be delivered. That is all.'

'Dumbledore sounds tense,' Hermione managed, finishing her cup of tea, before standing up as the teachers and ghosts began ushering those not involved out of the hall. Harry stood up, scooping up Silver (who resolutely dragged the remainder of his lightly toasted white toast and honey with him) and leaving the hall. His stomach was still rumbling.

'Something must have happened,' Harry said. 'Something big.' Hermione looked around at the scant group who were leaving the hall, including Blaise Zabini.

'Do you think it was-'

'No,' Harry cut in. 'I'd know if it was him.' Harry felt Hermione's eyes unconscious rake up to his scar. He frowned. 'I dreamt last night-'

'What of?'

'Let me finish. I dreamt, yeah, but it wasn't a special dream. It was... the dream I always have... the one about the attack.' Hermione frowned.

'No unholy headaches.'

'Not as of yet,' Harry said, looking up, 'but I think I might get one any second now.' Blaise Zabini rushed up to them.

'Do you have any idea what's going on?' he asked. Hermione shook her head, and Harry didn't bother to mask his scowl.

'Something to do with Durmstrang?' Hermione offered. 'It sounded somewhat serious.' Blaise frowned.

'It's a stronghold for deatheater wannabes,' he said darkly. 'Everyone knows that. I-...' he broke off quickly, moving away. 'I have to go and check on Pansy. Excuse me.' He rushed off down through the sultry archway to the dungeons as Harrystarted climbing the stairs.

'He seems troubled,' Hermione mumbled.

'Yeah,' Harry said bluntly. 'If something's happened to Durmstrang his whole family will probably have been wiped out-hey!' Hermione had slapped his arm.

'Stop it,' she grumbled. 'You're being childish.' Harry frowned.

'What would you prefer,' he said quickly. 'Childish or painfully aware of the compromising situation that is slowly tightening its grip around my neck?' Hermione looked stunned for a second. Harry bowed his head almost abashedly and hurried on up the stairs, knocking against some younger students as he rounded the corner. Hermione frowned and trudged up after him. With the relaxed atmosphere, the calm after the storm, it had almost seemed as if everything was better again. She shook her head, smiling bitterly. A bitter string was tweaked in her heart. She doubted things were ever going to be 'better' for Harry.

Ron didn't come to potions. Neither did most of the class. Neither did Professor Snape. In fact, there were only 6 people from the Sports Medi Magic and the Potions Class there in total. They sat, chatting or doing other homework or wasting time, luxuriously spaced out in the chill room, afraid to leave lest Snape come back, find them gone and smite them with some unholy essay question that not even the most malicious dementor would ask small children to write. Harry was watched as Silver lay, somehow holding a pencil, writing corrections to Harry's latest homework assignment. Despite all the energy at the beginning of the year, he was getting slacker and slacker as the days went on. Yeah, he got all his homework done, and done well, but there was nothing like a bit of adrenaline to get your ideas out on parchment. And all your Spelling mistakes apparently, since Silver was silently, almost contentedly correcting the seventeenth misSpelling in Harry's childish writing on the first page. The dragon suddenly looked up, around the room, his eyes misty and confused, before exhaling air silently, but a in a distinctly tragic way.

'I win,' Hermione said lightly. Even she had succumbed, and had taught Blaise the joys of hangman.

'I don't think I can cope with the simple intricacies of this game,' Blaise said, defeated, raking a hand through his soft, dusty brown hair. Harry rifled through his expansive bag, looking for something, anything to do that didn't involve school work. He came upon a parchment tube, and drew it out curiously, before recognising it.

'Ohhh...' he exhaled, and opened it, drawing out the long coiled parchment. He unrolled it. In the sweeping, aristocratic cursive, the name 'Draco T.M.L.N.J.A.A Malfoy' still graced the page like some long forgotten ghost. Harry shook his head, smirking at the middle name initials. Yeah, so you had to write at least your full initials at the top of these official papers, but still-

'That's-' Blaise snatched it desperately, eyes scanning the page hurriedly. 'I don't believe it... where did you get this!' Harry looked a bit taken back but hey, it wasn't his paper to begin with.

'Ron found it,' he said dryly. 'I haven't seen Malfoy around to return it. I don't know when his deadline is, so...'

'He doesn't have one,' Blaise said quickly. 'He's hardly even in now, so he wouldn't comprehend... oh that's not the point!' Blaise turned and fixed Harry with his gaze. 'WHEN did you find this?'

'A while ago...' Harry said indefinitely.

'The same night I gave you Silver, remember?' Hermione reminded, feeling a little left out as the boys talking in front of her. 'What was the date... when Lucius Malfoy visited...' Blaise looked defeated.

'That long ago,' he muttered, before sighing. 'I was hoping it had been more recent than that.' He managed a smile. 'Pansy's outburst in the hall this morning... she's demanding to see Draco. She thinks he's dead.'

'But he's not,' Hermione said quickly.

'We don't know that,' Blaise said after a long pause. 'He's vanished.'

'He's not back yet?' Hermione asked quickly, before turning to Harry. 'Wasn't he at the Manor?'

'No,' Harry said quickly. 'At least I didn't see him.'

'Makes sense,' Blaise cut in. 'Lucius is up in arms about it. He's demanding permits to leave his house arrest to come and search the castle for him.'

'Three weeks,' Hermione said gently. 'Where could he have gone?' Blaise shook his head.

'Lucius would have turfed him out if he were hiding anywhere he knew. It's not as if Draco ever went anywhere without some purpose in it. He couldn't hide on the Malfoy estate, and anyone who found him would be able to see how... unbalanced he's become and would have handed him in.' Blaise smirked humourlessly. 'The younger Slytherins think he's holed up in the chamber of secrets or something.' Blaise sighed, netting his fingers and leaning his chin on them. 'That, of course, is absurd. For a start he wouldn't cope with the damp.' He smiled, pointing to his head. 'Hair issues, and Draco is nothing if not vain. Secondly it's too grimy. Draco is a neat freak of the highest order, to the point where he has demanded a room to himself since year seven due to the sheer barbarity of Crabbe and Goyle. This school in general is a haven for dirt. I don't think he could put up with the cobwebs and dust and god knows what dwelling in the school catacombs.' Blaise opened his mouth to continue on that topic, but silenced himself. 'So... in short... we don't know where he is. But you found this, and this was missing from his room, so perhaps that might help in some way.' Blaise raked his hand through his hair again, before rolling up the parchment. Hermione frowned.

'Poor Malfoy...' she said softly. Harry and Blaise stared at her as if she had gone mad. She frowned. 'Don't look at me like that. He may be a prat, but it's more his dad then him. When Voldemort attacked him... we all saw what happened.' Harry and Blaise looked away. 'Even though he seems desperate, wild and frightened, that's the real him. The one that's been suppressed all these years by airs and hair gel and a stern upbringing.' She flushed a little. 'That's what I think, anyway. And you should feel sorry for him too. Wherever he is, he's probably scared and alone and miserable. I'd pity anyone in that situation.' Blaise frowned.

'Are you doing anything after school?' he asked. Hermione looked a bit abashed, and Harry murderous. Blaise swallowed hard. 'I meant both of you.' They both relaxed. 'If so, I could use you opinions. I've been trying to piece together what happened when he left. I've got a key to his chamber, so you can take a look for yourself. Maybe... share ideas.' Hermione's eyes sparkled.

'Sounds like a plan!' she said. Harry managed a smile. Hermione was like a fluffy haired modern day Velma. All she needed was a large, dumb, talking dog and for Harry to but on some bellbottoms and grow some stubble, and they'd be ready to go and solve a mystery.

'Seven, then?' Blaise confirmed in his terribly brisk and efficient manner. He'd be a politician one day, Harry thought, before nodding. The door of the dungeon slammed open. Snape did not enter, but a few much shaken students did, not the whole class, but enough to fill the benches. Ron slumped down between Blaise and Hermione unceremoniously, looking pale. They looked at him for a while.

'Snape's not coming,' he said flatly. 'He's still busy upstairs.'

'Why?' Hermione asked quickly.

'What's going on?' Harry added. Ron swallowed hard.

'Durmstrang,' he said quietly, as if it were a curse, 'has been attacked.' No one said anything. Ron swallowed again, as if it were failing to make his throat any less dry.

'Everyone's dead,' he hissed. 'Thirteen survived... and they're on their way here.'

'Are you really alright, Ron?' Hermione asked as Ron sat in the common room that evening. He smiled.

'Shocked,' he said gently. 'My cousins aren't in the thirteen. But... it's ok. I... didn't know them too well anyway.' Hermione tutted, before hugging him.

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, holding him supportively. Ron swallowed the lump in his throat.

'Is... Viktor ok?' he asked airlessly. Hermione looked up him, near pained.

'Don't worry about stuff like that,' she said hurriedly, pressing herself closer to his arm. Harry trotted down the stairs, Silver on his shoulder like some cheery, plated parrot, except that he was hissing violently and caterwauling for no apparent reason. Apparently he was offended by the chunky polo neck Harry had donned for the evening down in the abysmally chilly dungeons.

'Ready?' he asked above the clamour. Hermione set up.

'Do you want to come with us?' she asked. Ron thought for a moment.

'Can I set fire to Malfoy's belongings if I do?' he asked brightly.

'What is with you and burning Malfoy's possessions?' Harry laughed. Silver was puffing little balls of smoke testily. Ron shrugged.

'Dunno,' he answered. 'Just the image of his ferrety little face when he sees the results is priceless... in my imagination anyway.' Hermione poked him, before getting up.

'We'll see you later, then,' she said gently. Ron nodded, and leant forward to set up his chess set. Harry picked up his bag (he was going for a bath afterwards) and turned to Hermione. She looked sort of torn. He tugged her sleeve.

'Come on,' he whispered, and they left the common room, Silver squawking like a deranged parrot all the while.

'Don't touch anything,' Blaise said quietly in the dark, sultry corridor deep in the inner working of the Slytherin dormitories. 'He'll know. And I know it looks messy,' he added haltingly, 'but he left in such a rush... oh whatever...' the key finally clicked in the lock.

'Password?' the door asked, or rather, a framed mirror on it asked, displaying a 'reflection' of Malfoy's face. It didn't look smug, which set Harry off guard, rather cool, unassuming and secretly enjoying the conversation. Blaise cleared his throat.

'Three turns to the right, six to the left, press, pull and kick the dog,' Blaise said clearly.

'Alright then,' the image said, frowning as the door clicked open.

'What the hell was that?' Harry asked. Blaise raised his eyebrow.

'The password,' he replied plainly. 'And instructions for how to get into the secret study room. But that's not important.'

'There's a secret study room!' Hermione said brightly. Blaise frowned.

'I said it wasn't important,' he countered. 'Now, hurry up, before Pansy hears.' He shoved the heavy ebony door open, before bundling Harry and Hermione inside. He followed swiftly and swung the door smartly and silently shut. He sighed and leant against it as Harry and Hermione surveyed the space. The room was expansive and luxurious, as Harry remembered Draco's quarters at the manor as being. The colour scheme was dark, sultry but not oppressive, more the kind of place you wanted to slink into, curl up in and vanish into the darkness. It was probably unbearable in summer. A huge fire burned in a simply magnificent fireplace, illuminating two chairs and a low table. At the other end of the room were two huge, carved wardrobes and a heavy mahogany desk and bookcase. Behind them was the huge four poster bed, the image of luxury that hung around the mere mention of the Malfoy name. It was heavy, lush, and bedecked in velvet curtains, drapes, hangings and silken satiny pillows and sheets.

'Do you all get one these?' Harry asked dryly. 'Or was this a Malfoy commission?' Blaise shot him a look.

'We have group dormitories up until fourth year,' he said venomously. 'However, Draco moved into this room in first year for the reasons I have already divulged. This is, in fact, the room his ancestors donated to the school.

'Looking out for their own, then,' Harry commented, looking around. The room was grand an ornate and quite obviously full of treasures. It was, however, a total and utter pigsty. Papers were torn, scattered, crumpled and trodden all over the room, some fluttering like ghosts from the convections of the fire. The bedside unit was a mess of potion bottles, half used, empty, open, leaking, tipped over and smashed. They had spilled and dripped onto the floor, leaving small pools of stale potions to stain the flagstone floor and shards of vicious glass scattered around the vicinity. Pouring from one of the shelves was a roughly hewn roll of bandages, and sheets, though black, bore tell tale imperfections and scars where blood had leaked into their fibres. On the wall above the dressing table there were bloody hand prints either side of the mirror (which was smashed) and tumbling coils of used bandages that had been torn asunder without care. Blaise looked abashed in the owner's stead.

'As I said,' he muttered. 'He's not been himself... and he left in a rush.' Hermione looked troubled as she wandered cautiously around the room. Glass crunched under her shoe as she approached the bedside table.

'Did anyone see when he left?' she asked. 'I mean, Ron found that tube along the corridor between six and seven- just after he had gotten back to Hogwarts. But it could have been there for any amount of time.' Blaise frowned.

'Crabbe and Goyle were out by five thirty. Nuria and I left to go and greet Mr Malfoy on Draco's behalf at quarter to six. When we got back to the common room at five past, he had already gone. Naturally, that slippery little rat didn't get seen by anyone so we took all the flack for him.' Blaise looked momentarily angered, before calming sleekly in the way a cat's hair falls softly after it has puffed up to intimidate an enemy. 'But that is not the point. When did Weasley find the essay?'

'He had only just found it when he came into the common room,' Hermione replied, gingerly reading one of the potions bottles. 'That was... about quarter to seven.' Blaise frowned.

'That's a wider window than I had hoped for,' he grumbled. 'That's a possible hour from his leaving the common room to him dropping that essay tube, which is the last thing we know for sure he did, accidentally or not, before he "vanished".' Blaise sat down in one of the accommodating handsome armchairs. He sighed, resting his chin in a sickeningly aristocratic manner on his hand. Hermione beckoned Harry over. He picked his way through the mess, feeling a little flushed. This room was so much more personal... not to mention messed up than the other space of Draco's he had managed to invade. This felt weird, almost voyeuristic. At this point in his thought Silver leapt off his shoulder onto the bed, before dropping the floor and scampering under the bed.

'Silver!' Harry hissed, but the dragon didn't emerge. Hermione raised something in front of Harry's face. 'Dreamless sleep potion?'

'And lots of it,' Hermione said. 'There's others here too. A form of pepper-up that focuses on chest ailments like bronchitis, mind calmers...' she frowned. 'And... theres blood on some of the broken bottles. I think he was looking for a way out.' Harry averted his eyes for the glassy mess, and strode quickly over to the desk. Apart from the scattered papers and spilled ink, there was a huge book with the shiny blank black panel in the centre.

'Don't touch that,' Blaise warned quickly. 'It has a blood seal on it. Until Draco takes it off, it's sealed against anyone else.'

'What will happen if I touch it then?' Harry asked calmly, hand still poised. Blaise reclined.

'I'm not entirely sure,' Blaise said gently. 'But Draco always had a thing about noses. He reckoned the nastiest thing you could do to someone was to take their nose off.' Harry removed his hand quickly.

'Weirdo,' he hissed, Blaise huffed.

'I personally agree with him. You can get by the in world with hideous loss of limbs and what not, but with a massive great disfiguring hole in your face, you're never going to get any.' Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. Blaise shrugged. 'I'm just elaborating on what he said. And removing any offending references to other disfiguring facial injuries that were mentioned in the original conversation.' He smiled a saccharin smile when Harry glared round at him and allowed his eyes to lazily rake up to Harry's forehead. Harry rolled his eyes.

'So,' Hermione said, quickly distracting them from that topic. 'We know Draco's gone. We know he left in a hurry. What we need to know is where-'

'And if he hasn't pegged it,' Harry said dismissively. 'Since that would be such a tragic loss to the world.' Blaise glowered.

'Think what you will, Potter,' he hissed. 'But if he was so unimportant, you wouldn't be wasting your precious time down here helping me now, would you?' Harry stiffened.

'He's off his rocker,' he said quickly. 'It's called sympathy, Zabini, perhaps that's something a Death Eater's son doesn't know anything abo-'

'I dare you to say that again!' Blaise snapped, leaping up. Harry turned easily, smirking. He had had enough of this.

'Alright,' he purred. 'It's called-'

'Enough!' Hermione demanded. 'Enough of the ego battles! Harry, stop being rude to Blaise. You'd be equally hurt if people started insulting your father. And Blaise, no below the belt, snipish comments. It's dumb and pointless. We're here to find out what happened to Malfoy, not assert whose the bigger man which, by the way, is ridiculous.' Harry secretly thought that Blaise was proud of his father's alignment, but couldn't be bothered with the trouble it would cause if he said it aloud. Blaise looked furious, and was clutching his left forearm as if pained.

'You don't think you can trust me, Potter?' he said firmly, before pulling the sleeve up sharply, revealing a kite shape of four angry black dots. 'Marked for it, but I never completed the ceremony. That part at least was my choice. Happy now?' Harry averted his eyes. He frowned.

'We're not finding anything out,' he said quickly. 'We need to look at where Malfoy went next, not look through his drawers.' Harry turned to the door. 'But that can wait for another day. I'm going for a bath.'

'Harry,' Hermione said, as if to call him back.

'Silver?' Harry commanded. There was a scrabbling under the bed, before Silver appeared with a sheet of parchment in his teeth. He hissed and snapped at Harry, before trotting over to Blaise, depositing the parchment and yelping when Harry commanded the bracelet to return him to Harry's vicinity. Sulking, Silver slumped on Harry's shoulder and Harry left the room. Blaise said nothing for a while, before moving over to the desk, sweeping up the book and slotting it away on the book case. Hermione frowned at him. Blaise shrugged.

'He really needs work on his anger management,' he said gently. Hermione nodded.

'Hrm,' she said cheerily, fixing Blaise with the sharp look. 'I thought he was doing pretty well. He didn't kick over any tables.'

'Come on, it doesn't hurt.'

'Meep.'

'I know it's a bit bigger, but you'll like it. I promise it'll be alright.'

'Mreep.'

'Come on, I can't wait all day.'

'Honk!' Harry frowned.

'Coward,' he said, before raising his hand to whisper to the bracelet. Silver jumped and shouted in protest. Harry crinkled his nose at the little silver morsel.

'Well get in the bloody bath then, you priss.' Silver reciprocated by crinkling his snout, before wiggling his butt as he peered down into the murky bathwater. He tensed up, before pouncing into the water and resurfacing a few moments later, water running in rivulets of his slender head, crooning meekly and doggy padding for dear life. Harry was glad to see the water running off his wings. He'd read in the Even More Monstrous Book of Monsters (at the peril of his forearm) that penndragonnes wings became waterproofed like ducks as they got older. Silver splashed around in an extremely undignified manner, cooing and huffing bubbles out of his way as Harry sat on one of the grand steps to the baths, scrubbing himself down with a sponge. Once thoroughly clean, he sunk further into the water to a lower step so the water lapped across his toned chest. He sighed and leant back on his elbows, gently cupping a hand around Silver and letting the dragon rest against his chest as he ran the soft sponge over him. Harry did this more for his own therapy that Silver's cleanliness. The penndragonne, through all that splashing and cavorting, was thoroughly cleansed, but the slow, rhythmic, caring movements and slight pinch of Silver's claws as he held on were calming. Silver huddled close to Harry's skin, but did not relax. He kept looking up in a confused sort of way, averting his head, pondering, looking back, tensing up a little and repeating the process. Harry sighed smiling.

'You're too human,' he said gently, flicking water at the penndragonne's face. It crinkled its nose and hooted, shaking its head to dislodge the flecks, before Harry pulled it right against him, hugging it to his body.

'Silly thing,' he said gently, stroking the damp velveteen scales. Slowly, Silver, eyes lost in the fogs of confusion, submitted, laying his head down, his snout resting on the dip in Harry's collarbone, fanning Harry's skin with increasingly slow, sleepy breaths. Harry smiled, tenderly petting its skin, before he noted something. As he brushed his hands over the feather soft skin, parts of flesh seemed firmer than others. Harry moved his fingers over the raised bump. Silver stiffened little. He frowned.

'You must have fallen off that log harder than I thought,' Harry said gently, listening to Silver snuffle as he dozed in the lulling water. Harry allowed his arms to just cup the dragon in place and rested his head back on the steps. This was good. Life was getting harder, but this, right now, was good and innocent and calm. Harry smiled softly. What a treasure Hermione had offered him that day in October...

'He seems wiped out...'

'Wow... he really is cute when he's asleep. His feet are so small!'

'Cheers, Hermione...'

'Small is a good thing, Harry. Besides, it makes him more cuddly.'

'You can hold him if you like. He's pretty sleepy.'

'Wow, he really must be sleepy... awww he's much softer that Tigerlily!'

'Hermione... you're squeeing over the lizard from hell.'

'But he' so sweeet!'

'Who are you and what have you done with my partner in Silver hatred.'

'You don't hate him,' Harry said jovially as he opened the door to the dormitory. 'You just can't handle his abuse skills.' Ron smirked.

'Shock! Harry has uncovered my evil secret! How shall I survive?'

'With copious amounts of chocolate I expect,' Hermione mused, laying Silver down on Harry's bed. 'There.'

'Come on then,' Ron said brightly. 'Chess and chocolate.'

'But what about-'

'There is no way I'm doing anymore of that bloody essay tonight,' Ron complained.

'Chess, damn you! CHESS!' Harry followed them out.

'See you later,' he said gently as Silver blinked blearily at him, and the golden strike of light slid silently away, leaving Silver alone in the blue darkness as the voices of the three faded as they walked down the steps. The dragon lay flat against the bed for some time, blinking drowsily, allowing liquid pewter eyes to gaze around the room, taking it in slowly. Huffing, it hoisted itself up and rolled over onto his back, stretching its legs satisfyingly. The bed and comforter blanket were so soft and warm, and though the silence of the room throbbed in his internal ears, he felt... almost content. He sighed, his muddled mind of meaningless images and severed ties of recognition slipping into dozy, contented fuzz. So what if everything was a bit weird. Life was a weird and wonderful thing. And this Harry bloke. Harry... he was a good person. He cared a lot. Harry liked touching him, even though he wasn't really sure if it was his thing or not. However, sometimes it felt nice. Really nice. Safe and warm and something that Silver knew, even through the confusion in his mind he had not felt in such potency before. Silver realised he was purring, and allowed himself to continue. Silver felt his whole body, still deep heated from the bathwater, relaxing gently into the realms of sleep. His forepaws rested in his vision, not far from his face. The Hermione lady had been right. They were tiny. Little slender claws, tipped with tiny pale claws. He flexed his toes, blinking gently, before watching the cream pianist's digits uncurling to show their torn, battered fingernails. Silver's eyes widened in confusion, and he sat up. Wait. He sat up. What was he doing? Silver looked down, seeing how his slender fingers extended to delicate hands and slim arms, lashed with fading silvery scars. Shadowy elbows rested in the soft moonlight on torn trousers hanging off svelte hips and gently toned legs, shoeless.

'Mreep?' Silver managed, but it came heavy and clumsily between cracked lips as 'Mnnn?'

'Mnnn indeed.' Silver's head shot up and he scrambled clumsily backwards, still damp strands of spun gold falling in front of wide moonlit eyes. There was a soft crinkly sound as the fabric on the bed moved and another figure sat down. Silver uttered a soft hiss. The sound vibrated uncomfortably off of blunt teeth.

'Oh, don't give me that,' the creature said gently, blinking the soft lashes of its amber eyes. 'Especially not after I travelled so very far to come and visit you.' Silver said nothing. This creature was dangerous... but he didn't remember why.

'How is life treating you?' the creature asked lazily. 'I'm absolutely exhausted, I've been so busy!' It smiled. 'You looked so relaxed when I came in. It almost seemed a shame to disturb you.' Silver, again, said nothing. The creature laughed.

'What am I doing, talking to you!' The sound was mirthless, bitter and hollow. 'You're nothing but a convenient shell.' With a slick, silken flurry, the creature's fingers danced over Silver's abdomen and chest, before pressing hard on the breast bone. Silver gasped raggedly, eyes rolling back, before, for the first time in several days, coming fully into focus. They were wide with fear, but harsh with hate.

'Orion,' Draco hissed dryly.

'The one and only,' Orion responded sharply. The atmosphere between the two was palpable with crackly hate.

'Thank god,' Draco hissed. 'Once I get rid of you, there won't be any more left.'

'I'd watch your tongue, boy,' Orion growled, eyes flashing dangerously. Draco swallowed the sudden surge of heat in his body. 'You don't seem to comprehend the situation you're in.' Draco rolled his eyes.

'Daddy's cross because I won't just run home and play servant master with him and he sent you to get me. Wow. My brain reels at the complexity of that revelation.'

'Idiot,' Orion hissed. 'You humans and your pathetic memories...' Draco's mind suddenly fell upon the last time he had met Orion. The pattern... and the sudden blankness.

'You didn't tell him it was me!' He hissed. 'What did you do to me, you filthy hybrid!' Orion smirked.

'Aww, did I get your pique your interest now, Master Malfoy?' He reclined on Harry's pillows calmly, purring, golden eyes flicking around. Malfoy looked at his surroundings.

'Dear god,' he muttered. 'I'm in Gryffindor.'

'I'm surprised Godric himself hasn't leapt out of a portrait to smite you yet,' Orion offered, lazy. Draco's scuffed palm trailed shakily up to cover his mouth. His eyes were wide.

'The bath... oh gooood,' He pushed the hells of his hands into his eyes and shook his head. Orion watched, a faint smile ghosting on his white lips. Draco's hands dropped, and if it was possible, his eyes went wider, his mouth hanging slack.

'Oh no...'

'Oh yes,' Orion purred. Draco looked at him, pleading.

'You made it up and put it there. Pleeeeease say you made it up!'

'No need to. Doesn't Hagrid have the roughest fing-'

'SHUT UP!' Draco bawled, throwing his arms over his head, trembling. Orion laughed.

'Silly,' he whispered. 'They'll have heard you now.'

'Let them hear,' Draco mumbled. Suddenly he was sitting bolt upright. Orion raised an eyebrow, before yelping as two plae hands locked round his throat.

'You little bastard!' Draco spat as Orion flailed, his teeth bared. 'How DARE you do this to me! My father-'

'Will do nothing!' Orion laughed, kicking Draco square in the stomach, sending him flailing onto the flaw, all clawing nails and gnashing teeth. Orion sat up, straightening his collar.

'Idiot boy,' he purred. 'Who is going to tell him? Why should he care?'

'B-because-'

'Because you're his precious son? His heir? Didn't I tell you, Draco, none of that matters. You're a failure. A wreck. If it wasn't for me, you'd still be crawling around in that snakeskin, forgetting who you are.'

'It's thanks to you I did forget! If I had known-'

'You would have suffered a relapse and been no fun whatsoever,' Orion finished lightly. Draco growled. Orion grinned.

'Soon enough, you really won't matter at all-you can't do a thing about it, Draco, so you might as well stay down there and save yourself to effort-because your father won't even remember why he's bothered. Aquilla wouldn't dare defy me the way he defies your father. And you won't have the opportunity to.' Orion sighed, lounging as Draco fumed and voices could be heard at the bottom of the stairwell. Orion sighed.

'It appears our time together has been cut short,' he tutted. 'Pity. I do so enjoy these chats.'

'Sicko,' Drco snarled. 'Stay away from me... and take these damn bindings off!'

'However,' Orion mused, ignoring Draco. 'There is so much potential inside these walls. So many things people would die to possess...' Orion smiled serenely, before piercing Draco with his gaze, watching the boy's arms give and his fall, gasping onto the stone floor, back arched, sickly steam rising from the patterns on his body.

'I think I'll come back here,' Orion decided.

The door slammed open.

'Silver?' Harry asked. As he walked towards his bed, the window fluttered angrily. He looked over at it, frowning. Slowly, he approached his bed, rounding it to look down the aisle between his and Ron's cabinets. A little ball of trembling life lay squatted on the stones. Harry raised an eyebrow.

'Did you fall?' he asked gently. 'There was no need to make so much noise, you know.' Silver raised his tiny head and blinked up at Harry through glazed steel.

There was nought but mist in his eyes.

* * *

r+r? pleeeaaaaase? ;;


	13. Chapter 13

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I own two broken nails. How pissed off am I?

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS for this chapter: Non-con Het, OC_

_Also warnings... : This story is quite dark. I think black becomes me._

A/N

DUNNAH! The unlucky number! Shock Horror! Quelle D'Omage! Que Desastre! Taihen and I could just keep on going on that tangent, but I won't.

Sorry this took so long. I suck like a hungry whore who's had her stomach unclipped.

In future I hope to be able to drum these chapters out faster. The problem is I write a huge amount in a few days and then get a ridiculous review (see previous chapter for that little anecdote of my ire) or something and my muse falls into a bottomless pit, twitching and drained and crying for his mummy. And then it takes a while to get back on track. This month's distraction was Ikkakujuu. Unicorn boys are very, very distracting, I can tell ye. sigh But it's soooo worth it. Trust me, darlings. SOOOO worth it. Espesh for Looby art. nod nod She's the artist I've collaborated with. Give her a visit at Whee

Lots of stuff happens in this chapter too, even though it's short. Pwomise. And only a few more chapters until the divine Draco makes his... hrm, well, it's not his first appearance by any stretch of the imagination. Hrm. Well... he'll be in it! And it'll be good! I PROMISE.

Oh, and

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEEE! I'm 18 now! I turned 18 on the 11th of June! Scaaaary stuff!

* * *

'Are you receiving?' asked a husky voice. Dumbledore stared into the communications device Karkaroff had given him during the Triwizards Tournament. For emergency purposes, of course. Thankfully, it had found a use, carried now by the last senior prefect of Durmstrang Academy.

'I am receiving,' Dumbledore replied gently. Several of the staff were gathered around, each failing to mask their concern and guilt that the concern was not for those struggling survivors.

'There are fourteen,' the boy's voice said. 'We have lost three already. I have seen two emergency units attempting to get to us...' he broke off to hack and cough. 'Our... Our route is nearly inaccessible and something... dogs our passage. I...' the figures behind him screamed as a shadow flapped over head. The picture blurred and sound became augmented.

'Do you know how to portkey?' Dumbledore said hurriedly. They were running out of time.

'No,' the boy said firmly. 'But we can all apparate.' Dumbledore ignored their youth and carried on.

'Do you know Hogsmeade?'

'We were instructed on its location,' the boy confirmed. His voice was monotonously efficient.

'Find cover then, and apparate if you can,' Dumbledore said quickly. 'If not... London?' The device crackled.

'Alrigh-' the image died and the sound crackled awfully, before the communicator fell silent and slowly dissolved into ash. There was a long silence.

'He sounds more like a soldier than a child,' Professor McGonagall complained. A few of the teachers hummed and nodded their agreement. The atmosphere in the office was oppressive. Dumbledore slowly leant back in his chair, sighing.

'We should expect them imminently,' Dumbledore said efficiently.

'Albus,' Professor McGonagall sighed. 'They're cut off and under attack. It could be-'

'Madame Pomfrey, we will need beds prepared for their arrival. And can all staff be aware that the school day may be interrupted...'

'Qi-Lin, also known as Kirin or the Asian Unicorn is an integral part of far eastern mythology. Even today, in places such as Fukuoka, Southern Japan there are festivals held for him each year. It is unclear whether or not Qi-Lin was a single individual of a dying magical race, part of a herd of creatures that has since gone underground or still alive today, keeping watch on the civilisations he affected. All that is known for sure is what is documented in his legend. Class, open your textbooks to page 7 in chapter 9, Eastern Mythology.'

Harry opened his textbook and flipped forward to the allotted page. Professor Willotree let the class do most of their learning on their own, Charming a set of questions to shape their notes onto their desk. The class would read, chat quietly amongst themselves, doodle, and Professor Willotree would amble around, stopping at desks to chat with students about their theories, ideas, favourite myths and expressive doodles. She had an airy, kind nature, and it was almost impossible not to like her. Harry could tell she, like he, had been raised a Muggle, and therefore her intense fascination with the magical world was clear in her sparkling green eyes. The classroom was bright and airy, even on cloudy days it seemed. The walls were full of huge high windows on two sides, bathing the class in warm light. It was a high room, with a beautifully painted arched roof, and mystical leafy trees stretching up to them. Often there was some sort of mythological creature pottering about in the room, but even when there was not, the trees were filled with beautiful multicoloured decorative birds that sang and twittered amongst the trees and little puffs of green smelling incense that floated out of the various burners. Harry had to admit that although the class was less hands on that say, Care of Magical Creatures or DADA, he liked it. If anything, it was a relaxing environment, and as his last lesson in the week (just before lunch on a Friday), it seemed to relieve all students of their burdens, if only for an hour. Silver was on his desk, and seemed totally calm, watching as various adverts flashed across Harry's ruler. Bertie Botts every flavour beans! As much as you can carry for 5 sickles! Limited offer!... Trouble with your tarot cards? Auntie Fortuna has answers to all your fortune telling queries... Hair loss? Tried everything and found no solution? McYeti's-

Harry pulled the ruler away to underline one of the keywords in the book, placing the ruler under the line and mumbling the words. A shimmering luminescent line appeared, cheerfully illuminating 'Confucious'. Silver watched him quietly, pondering something. As Professor Willotree got into a passionate debate with Justin Finch-Fletchely over the possibility of Kirin's being lost unicorns, Harry felt a nudge at his hand. He looked down, to see Silver trying as discreetly as possible to worm his way under it. When he realised he was being watched, he squeaked and scurried away to Harry's ink pot, facing away from Harry rigidly. Harry frowned. What was Silver up to? Something crossed his mind. Perhaps... the little creature was seeking his comfort? Trying to work out if he really had to be so distant? Gently, Harry placed his hand over the little dragon's back, feeling it tentatively curve into his touch. He smiled, relieved. Silver was warming up to him. This was good. Silver laid down against the table, tucking his legs under him. Harry went back to his note making, chatting with Hermione as she gushed over the pictures in the book, rushed photos of something incredible swooping out of the darkness and disappearing in a flash, all hooves and grandeur and flame.

It was during Harry's Myth Studies lesson that the expected guests arrived. Harry wouldn't have known, except that Hermione, as a prefect had been whisked out of the classroom so fast Harry's head had spun. As he left the lesson with Silver peering out of the top of his shoulder bag, there was no sign that they had arrived, save for, as he headed down into the entrance hall to gain access to lunch, the sign of Filch mopping the floor. Harry, at the time, didn't know why, but Hermione and Ron burbled it to him the moment he sat down.

'There were survivors?' Harry asked, filling one half of his plate with mashed potatoes.

'Not many,' Hermione said quickly. 'But even fewer made it here... oh God, Harry! It was awful!-'

'-There must have been only five or six of them who made it,' Ron continued. 'They'd been trekking for days apparently. The no apparate zone extends really far from Durmstrang-'

'Oh Harry! The leader... he was carrying this girl, she couldn't have been more than second year. He led them inside, drenched in blood, handed her to a professor and just... fell down! I don't know if he died or... oh Harry, it was awful!'

'They took them all up to the infirmary straight away. Apparently we're supposed to take shifts guarding the infirmary from curious students until they're well enough. Me and Hermione got lumbered with this afternoon because we've got frees.'

'Well I haven't!' Hermione scoffed, and was about to go off on a tangent about how she was missing an important testing session for her Creative Magic project, when Harry cut in indignantly.

'But we were going to go out and practise,' Harry complained. 'Quidditch starts late this year, granted, but we've got to get back into practise ASAP. Roooooon!' Ron shrugged.

'Sorry, Harry,' he sighed. 'Prefect's duties.' He scowled at the look Harry gave him and Hermione sighed.

'You've got the whole weekend to practise quidditch, boys,' she said quickly. 'These Durmstrang children need all the help they can get. I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will let you guard with us, Harry.' Harry shook his head, smiling serenely.

'Nah,' he said gently, watching as Silver picked fussily at the grub Harry had placed in front of him- all stodgy, fattening food. Chudley, who somehow had snuck into dinner, started eating it instead, and Silver found some fruit. Harry looked up at his friends.

'I wouldn't want to intrude. I'll find someone else to fly with.'

Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom were sitting in the Quidditch Stands, trying to get some peace and quiet to finish their Herbology homework. However, especially for Neville, this particularly task was infuriatingly simple, but longwinded and time consuming, and they were taking their fourth desperation break when Harry ambled onto the pitch, wrapped up against the wind, broomstick in hand. The boys looked at each other, before resolutely putting their books away. Who would actively choose homework over watching the Gryffindor seeker, the youngest in a century, practise?

Harry noted his friends, waving with a bright smile.

'Nice weather for flying,' he joked as he was buffeted by another gust of wind. Silver's head coiled out of the open neck of his jacket, snuggled in the spare folds of his scarf. Slowly, Harry mounted his broomstick, feeling it hum beneath hum. The magical energy of the broom was like a caged bronco, just waiting for the gate to swing open and its rider's punishment to begin. Silver was staring at the broom in a confused, almost nostalgic way. Harry grinned, patting his head.

'You'll be fine,' he said gently. 'Besides, feeling the wind on your face might do you some good. Help you fledge and all that.' Silver gave a him a look that smacked of doubt, but Harry ignored it, kicking off and pressing himself to the broom, racing the wind into the heavens. Silver let out a long drawn out whine of shock as they ascended, but even though only his head was bared to the element, began to lean with Harry as they took turns and swoops up high. Not that Harry was paying attention. Flying... it was therapeutic to him. He had total control of his broom, this powerful object that would take him anywhere, a primal beast of man's creation. His own. The wind lashed his face, cold but not bitter, rather fresh, rejuvenating, making his pulse race and his face tingle. Here, he was himself. There was no throbbing scar, no Snape, no stupid Daily Prophet articles, and as much as he loved them, no Hermione and Ron. His mind just emptied, honing keen instinct and he ducked and dived, oblivious to the world. Balance. Focus. Daring. He had it all and he was its master. He wasn't weak. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't cold now his jacket's zip had fallen open.

Wait.

Harry's broom swung to a smooth halting hover in midair as he patted his coat desperately. It was then that he saw the little speck of grey spiralling downwards.

'Silver!' he yelled, dropping into the Wronski feint, vertical and plummeting, desperate and faster than he had gone before. The tiny creature was still falling, but he was catching up. That ground was getting horribly close...

'Here!' he called out to the bracelet. 'HERE!' but it was no use. Since Malfoy Manor, it just hadn't worked the same. And that was a nuisance, particularly now. Pressing himself closer to the broom, Harry cursed to himself.

'Faster!' Harry hissed, wishing for once that his broom was something alive, something he could push beyond its limits. He was catching up. He reached out a hand. He stretched his fingertips... and Silver shot past him back upward. Letting out a cry of surprise, as his spectators, Neville and Dean, cringed, Harry swung sharply out of the dive, his feet clipping the grass as he pulled up. Dean and Neville were running towards him.

'That was amazing, Harry!' Neville gushed. Shaking Harry nodded swallowing hard as if to force his innards back into their rightful places.

'Thanks,' he managed. Dean wasn't quite so complimentary.

'What the hell were you doing?' he snapped. 'Were you aiming for the floor or did the notion of becoming a human pancake suddenly appeal to you?' Harry frowned.

'Neither,' he said shortly. 'I was aiming...' he looked up. 'for that.' All three boys looked up. The sky, though bright with afternoon sun, was overcast, and the grey-painted clouds which tumbled together like a blanket were aflame with the white tickles of sunlight as it defied them and powered on through to earth. Much closer than that, about 20 feet up, something was suspended in the air, fluttering in a confused and not entirely practised manner on a pair of tiny white curly wings. Silver squawked in an uncertain sort of way, blinking down the vast distance between it and its keeper. On the ground, Harry whooped, glad of the chance now to defy Blaise Zabini's purist babble, almost in the way a protective father looks to outdo the other football dads. Silver looped a little crookedly, before trying again and again, more fluid every time. A pair of watchful eyes, now safely placed, looked on, a soft but humourless smirk playing on white-pale lips. And whilst all this occurred, as the penndragonne grew stronger, the inexperienced mind within, lost and trapped in a form not its own, sunk deeper and deeper away in to the mists of quiet memory.

After the close shave the afternoon had provided, Harry was quite ready for a calm sit down and a hearty meal. Silver, coiled across his shoulders, glowing with pride, kept beating the tiny puffs of feathers, chattering away in aloof quacks and squawks. Silver huffed indignantly when Harry jostled him when the boy slumped onto his space on the Gryffindor benches. Snorting, Silver beat hard with his newly discovered wings and soared into the air, only to plummet almost immediately through malpractice onto the clean white plate, criss crossed with the grey blade marks from years of use. Thankfully, the pre-dinner raucous covered up the pained squeak that was emitted as the little silver body deflated against the china. Reflexively, Harry scooped Silver off the table and into his lap, gently smoothing down its feathers as it peered over the tabletop prudently. In a flash, the plates flooded with food as candles bobbed overhead, igniting in a flood of twinkles to signal that dinner had officially begun. On either side of Harry, save for the spaces immediately next to him, the benches filled and people began filling their plates with gusto. Not to be left out, Harry joined in, filling also the little side plate Dobby always made sure he was provided with after a little chat he had arranged with the loyal house elf. It was a good five minutes before Ron and Hermione showed up, bickering.

'I don't care what you heard, 'mione, you heard wrong. You saw them. There's no way any of them are going to be up and about yet, let alone making eyes at you through gaps in the curtains.'

'He was not making eyes at me,' Hermione huffed, sitting down heavily, face tinged strongly with crimson. 'And besides, Madam Pomfrey told me- not me overhearing, Ron- that I was to look out for the new student. What precisely is that supposed to mean, _Ronald, _if not that one of the newly arrived Durmstrang students is going to be let out?' She swayed a little in her seat, before hastily loading her platter with food. Her eyes looked a little glassy. Ron scoffed, shoving a large forkful of mash into his mouth.

'You're just excited because he's goodlooking,' he snarled bitterly.

'Oh get a life, Ron,' Hermione snapped back, her breathing shallow and quick. She took a rejuvenating draft from her pumpkin juice. Harry shook his head between them, looking down into his lap to Silver.

'Hello Harry, how was your afternoon? Oh not too bad, thank you very much. I had a very nice flight-'

'Hello Harry,' Ron droned. Harry smirked at him.

'Sounds like you two had a nice time,' he offered. Ron grunted.

'S'borin,' he grouched, swallowing a mouthful of chicken. 'Spent most of the time telling nosy first years to bog off. Other than that, it's just me and Hermione standing there like a right pair of lemons, trying to ignore the questionable moans and groans.' He shuddered. 'The least Madame Pomfrey could have done was put a silencing Charm up. Lazy cow.'

'Ron!' Hermione chided, before swooning into Harry's side. Silver chirped at her irritably through a slice of roasted duck.

'You ok Hermione?' Harry asked cautiously as her helped her to sit back up. She drank deep from her cup again, nodding vigorously.

'Of course I am,' she snapped. 'I've just been standing up all afternoon. Stop fussing.' Harry and Ron shared a mutual look as Silver scrabbled determinedly for a Petis Pois. Harry pushed it across the saucer to the hungry Penndragonne.

'Are you sure-' Harry began, but was cut off by a hand tapping lightly upon his shoulder. Harry turned, eyes widening as they met with a face he already knew. In his lap, Silver froze, claws half way to another pea, a crumb of duck meat hanging from his jaw. His pupils dilated and he trembled in terror, shrinking back into the protective shadow of Harry's body.

'Hello again,' the owner of the hand purred, his voice soft and slick and satiny. 'I had so hoped we'd meet again.' Hazel eyes glinted with some unrealised mischief as they considered the stunned face before them.

'H-Hi...' Harry managed, indeed stunned. Ryan Abarov had come to Hogwarts.

Hermione left dinner early, complaining of light-headedness and fever. Although Harry had advised her to pop in and see Madam Pomfrey on her way to bed, she was heading straight for the dormitory, knowing that Madam Pomfrey was really far too busy to be bother by her silly little troubles. Besides, the strangeness of her fever was that the further she walked, up and up flights of stairs, along corridors, past drafty windows and chill-blasting open archways, the better she felt. As she alighted the seventh flight of stairs, she sauntered through the familiar and quiet territory, she felt almost herself again, the soft click of her shoe heels keeping her company and the glint of her polished prefects badge in the corner of her eye. She smiled to herself. Silly Harry, fretting over nothing. He had far more important things to be worrying about than a little fever. Her mind drifted to Ron, and her smile widened. She shook her head. Ron must have been pretty sore about the Durmstrang students arriving, even more that he had caught her making eye contact with what he saw as 'the enemy'. Nothing had changed since Krum. Typical Ron to be so ridiculous.

'Completely ridiculous,' said a voice behind her. 'After all, we've barely met.' Hermione spun on her heel and staggered backwards a few steps. Her head swam as a sickly warm fuzz began to dominate it once more.

'I'm sorry,' she mumbled, raising a hand to her sweltering forehead. 'I didn't realise I'd said anything out loud.'

'You didn't,' responded the accented voice. She raised her eyes and gasped, feeling that familiar burning hazel boring it's blistering heat deep inside her flesh. The boy frowned, raising a bandaged wrist.

'No need to look so affronted,' he pouted, tugging on the ties of his bandages coyly with his teeth. The soft tenor of his voice seemed to lull her, but not into security, but into maddening warmth that sent tingles of forbidden pleasure across her skin. Hermione averted her face, stumbling backwards a few steps, stars danced in her eyes as she hit the wall, knocking her head against it a little.

'L-leave me alone,' she pleaded, listening to the bold steps that came ever closer to her. She jumped as hands hit the wall either side of her head.

'It's not coincidence that we meet again,' he whispered, face so near to hers that cold breath fluttered against her cheeks, causing a delightful contrast she fought to deny. 'I discovered that you had certain properties that could be very useful in my time here.'

'Stop,' Hermione begged, summoning some resolve. 'Ryan... isn't it?'

'I suppose,' Ryan drawled, hazel eyes flickering with torchlight.

'Then Ryan... I,' Hermione sucked in a breath. 'I don't know what you're doing but... stop... it must be some curse... you... can't do that here.' Ryan considered her for a moment, before bowing his dusky head, snickering.

'I'm serious!' Hermione demanded. 'I-I'm a prefect... and I'll have to report thi-'

'Oh really?' Ryan said firmly, cold fire flashing in his eyes and he spoke mere millimetre from her lips. Hermione's eyelids fluttered, tears welling in fear and enforced lust. Ryan pulled back a little, lifting a hand to examine his fingernails.

'Hermione,' he whispered. 'You are a singular woman. A real diamond in this slag heap they call a school.' Hermione's fingers pressed into the wall. It was growing hot.

'You're intelligent, pure, and,' Ryan's smile widened. 'You have a proximity to those that concern me that I would be hard pushed to find in anyone else.' He smiled. 'Especially in anyone else quite so irritatingly attractive as you are.'

'Shut up,' Hermione spat, thrashing her head. Her body seemed unable to move. Ryan laughed lazily.

'I'm serious,' he drawled. 'Long, feminine hair, soft features, bright eyes with long dark lashes,' he blinked lazily, and Hermione shivered as hazel turned to amber. Ryan continued.

'A nature so pure and honest, a virtue yet intact-' he stepped forward in one movement so that his body, lean and straight was flush with hers. She muffled a cry by biting her lip, lost to the Charms that Ryan's true form knew so well.

'With curves like this,' he whispered into her ear. 'It's incredible to believe that that's true.' He touched the very tip of one finger to her hip bone, and watched her tremble. Her hands were singeing in their vice grip with the wall.

'You,' she hissed, her breaths desperate and shallow. 'You destroyed Durmstrang... with heat...'

'Clever girl,' Ryan purred nastily, stepping away a little. 'But you won't remember that soon.' Hermione narrowed her eyes against the desire.

'You're going to curse me,' she hissed. 'Dumbledore will know.'

'Dumbledore knows about as much about me as he knows about Persian rugs,' Ryan snapped, revealing sharp teeth that made Hermione cringe. 'And why would I curse you when I can do this to you so easily?' He ran a finger along the curve of her cheek and down her neck in a singular lethargic swipe. Bolts of energy flooded her form and her mouth fell open, body arching in desire as heat and pressure flooded down.

'You see?' Ryan jeered. 'It's really not that difficult.' Hermione whimpered as he took his hand away, tears trickling down her cheeks.

'Now,' Ryan whispered. 'I have a task for you. It won't disturb you, so there's no need to look so upset.' Hermione jumped at his tone. Ryan smiled softly. 'You're going to keep an eye on that Penndragonne you gave to your friend. And him too. I want to know everything they do, so you'd better pay attention. I want to know of any sign of change, anything at all that happens to them. Got it?'

'Go to hell,' Hermione whimpered. Ryan laughed.

'I'm glad to see we have an accord,' he whispered, tracing a burning pattern on her neck which stung viciously. 'Of course, you won't remember any of this, so it's of little consequence.'

'You won't... get away with this,' Hermione snarled, and Ryan seized her by the throat.

'Oh, I think I will, spy.' He pressed himself to her again, feeling her body quake. 'Once I seal the Spell, you're as good as mine.'

'I don't...' Hermione puffed, 'believe you.'

'That's not important,' Ryan drawled. 'Goodnight.' And with that, he pressed his thumb hard on her neck and savaged her lips in a brutal kiss. Hermione screamed, but not in horror or pain, but in the uncontrollable violent pleasure that assailed and took over her body so easily and so quickly. She fell limp into his arms within seconds, blood trickling from a split lip.

'Good girl,' Orion whispered, licking the blood away possessively and sweeping her into her arms. 'Good girl.'

* * *

r+r PLEASH


	14. Chapter 14

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I own all kinds of blisters. And a pair of scrummy sandals that don't like walking to the shopping centre and back. Hrm. Other than that, I am penniless and futile.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: SLASH! _

_Also warnings... : This story is quite dark. I think black becomes me._

A/N

Here it is, but save your squees. Draco's back next chapter.

Oh, and by the way, I'm not prolific enough to write the Dark Lord's character well. I will make all efforts to avoid it in the future.

This chapter is REALLY LONG, ok? Just so you know.

ALSO ALSO: I thank John Williams for writing the PoA soundtrack. It's the only reason you have a CH14. Also check out my one shot H/D song fic 'Cool'. It's new XD

BIG NEWS: WE REACHED 1000 HITS! YAAAY! We actually did it pretty soon in CH13. I'm so pleased. Follow this link for the kiriban you rightfully deserve!

http COLON SLASH SLASH www DOT deviantart DOT com SLASH deviation SLASH 21399848 SLASH

Now... if only we could get 100 reviews and get a kiriban... XD

* * *

December was on the horizon, merely days away, and the first flutterings of damp sleet were noted on the faces of chilled students heading out to the greenhouses or across the grounds. All around, people were beginning to automatically wind down for the term- fatigue was setting in, and people were already counting the days until the end of term. A grand total of three Durmstrang students, out of the ten who had arrived, were still at the school. The other seven had been shipped to St Mungos, and their fates had not been revealed to the student body. Of the three that remained, two were out of the hospital wing. A minute, sickly looking first year, who had been bundled off to Ravenclaw, and someone a little less weedy who had joined Gryffindor. Ryan Abarov, family friend of the Malfoys, who had returned Silver to Harry during the escapade at Malfoy Manor. Ryan Abarov, whose sandy blonde hair, angelic porcelain features and rich hazel eyes had every female in the common room doing back flips to get him to notice them. Ryan Abarov who...

'...Doesn't appear to be doing any practical subjects,' Hermione mused. As she sat with Ron and Harry ion the common room, she seemed quite bright eyed and awake. Recently, she seemed to lapse in and out of strange trances, where she would become rosy cheeked, glassy eyed and very very lethargic. She often had to be escorted (as far as possible) to bed. Harry blamed over work- she was already doing eight hours of revision a week for NEXT YEARS exams. Ron, however, blamed a certain eastern European influence, whose appearance seemed to coincide with each of Hermione's funny Spells. He, therefore, was hardly speaking to Hermione and defiantly ignoring said eastern European influence. Harry had tried telling him he was being silly- now, for example, Ryan was sitting on the other side of the common room, helping Lavender and Pavarti with their divination homework, and Hermione seemed, if anything, perky.

'What's that got to do with anything?' Ron snapped. 'Why should we care what bloody subjects HE'S doing?'

'Because it's interesting,' Hermione grumbled, pulling out a complete timetable. 'Look. He's doing Divination, Ancient Runes, Myth studies, Potions, Arithmancy and Astronomy... you don't need a wand for any of those. Isn't that strange?'

'I take Myth studies, Hermione,' Harry commented, scanning over the rules of dealing with complicated or numerous injuries. 'And so do you. Are we strange too?'

'You're missing the point,' Hermione snapped. 'You take Charms, don't you? And Transfiguration. Ron takes Craft Magic and Defence against the Dark Arts. I take Creative Magic. Between us, we all do lots of different subjects, but using our wands. Ryan doesn't take ANY where he has to use a wand. Don't you find that strange?'

'Maybe he's a squib,' Ron snorted in an uncharacteristic show of malice.

'You really think a squib would have been able to get within a mile of Durmstrang?' Hermione jibed. 'Be sensible, Ron. Besides, he has to have some magic potential if he's doing potions and,' she sneered, 'divination, but to not do any subject using a wand is...' she sighed. 'really difficult to fit into the timetable, if nothing else.' Ron huffed, demolishing a chocolate frog violently.

'Maybe the courses here are different to the ones he was doing,' Harry offered, turning a page whilst Silver pushed his glasses further up his nose and went to refill the ink in his quill for a new section of notes. 'So, when he came here, he had to pick subjects whose syllabus was closest to the ones he was studying. There's no point in him picking up Transfiguration if his course still has him transfiguring teacups, or doing Craft magic if he's already able to whip up the Venus de Milo in his spare time.'

'Who cares?' Ron snapped, grabbing up his books and Chudley, who was stalking jellybeans. 'I'm going upstairs to study. It's too bloody noisy down here.' And with that he stamped off up the stairs in a frightful huff, slamming the dormitory door. Hermione rolled her eyes.

'His tantrums are really beginning to get on my nerves,' she growled, snuggling deeper into her arm chair. Harry sighed and raised his book to cover his face. He didn't need to get in the middle of another of their spats.

The following morning started with a free period for the boys. When they awoke, Ryan was not in bed, nor in the common room. This seemed to cheer Ron greatly, and no one really paid it much heed. Perhaps he had classes.

In fact, he did not.

'I was hoping we'd have the chance to meet,' a voice hissed in the darkness. It was high and aloof, yet chilling to all those present. Save one, who sat upon the floor, hands bound before him, eyes glinting fire-orange in the half-light.

'It seemed inevitable,' the captive replied, smiling a sharp grin. 'Especially after my... integration incident.'

'Is that what you decided to call it?' the voice asked airily. 'I call it damaging of my property. In case you weren't aware, beast,' venom dripped from every word. 'I rather liked that school where it was.'

'Nonsense,' the prisoner drawled. 'Durmstrang was a place of weakness. A school filled with inbred brats of mindless slaves, most of whom, if you hadn't already noticed, have defected to the third side of the modern equation.' There was a pregnant pause.

'Explain,' the voice hissed, red eyes narrowing on a sallow pale face. Orion leant his chin on one bound hand complacently, smiling vaguely.

'You harmed their offspring, and now they don't want to play with you anymore.' He chuckled. 'My lord... you are being usurped. Surely you have noticed the numbers dropping... less coming when called. More and more they bite back the pain and ignore you... loathe you... fear you, but don't respect you anymore.'

'You are an observant beast,' he responded dryly, petting the glinting scales of the serpent Nagini. 'Who leads them? Who started this farcical rebellion?' Orion pressed his lips together, eying the architecture.

'Surely you could find that out on your own, my lord?' His eyes flickered into the shadows where his questioner lurked.

'Perhaps I would like you to tell me instead,' he retorted. Orion gave him an almost piteous glance, before he stood up, admiring the domed ceiling.

'What, pray-tell, are you going to do with me?'

'What?'

'And, for that matter,' Orion went on, 'the culprit of this uprising?' Nagini shot across the floor, as if to strike, before shying back against the heat. The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes.

'Would you really like to know? It isn't pleasant.'

'Oh I live for gore,' Orion replied, lounging. 'I'm sure I wouldn't be too appalled.' There was a soft chuckle. It wasn't happy, but it was a chuckle none the less.

'For you, I was planning a cage to be shared with a troll. How does that sound?'

'Delightful,' Orion purred, licking his teeth. 'I do so love a challenge.'

'And for my betrayer, pain-'

'Mmm...'

'ruin-'

'Go on...'

'And annihilation.'

'Oh.' There was another pause.

'I do not seek you appraisal for my plans, halfbreed.'

'I didn't suspect you did,' Orion replied gently. 'I was only hoping for something grander from the infamous Tom Riddle.'

'Silence!' A curse shot out of a concealed wand, striking Orion in the chest, making him writhe and wail, foam at the mouth, claws and teeth and feathers and animalistic agony as he shrieked on the stone. Slowly, the pain subsided and Orion sank back against the floor, eyes closed, a giddy smile, crossing his face as he mewed in delight.

'Oh, my Lord...' he mumbled giddily. 'You're so much better at that than he is...' Lord Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

'And who might he be?' Orion's eyes fluttered open, full of half lit embers ignited by mischief.

'My master,' he whispered, 'and the cause of the dissention.' Slowly, fluidly, he got to his feet, glimmering with animal power and prowess as he stalked closer to his questioner. 'He is a mere ant compared with your excellence. I see that now. I had not known the meaning of power before now... I was lost in the darkness of ignorance, and now, you, my Lord, have awakened me to knowledge...' Voldemort said nothing as Orion fell at his feet, soft hands tracing patterns over his legs, nuzzling like an adoring pet against his thigh, seeking a hand that he might kiss. Striking him hard across the face, Voldemort sent him skidding away.

'You serve the leader of the cowards. You know his name and what he plots against me. You know all his secrets.'

'No,' Orion whispered, wiping blood from his chin and licking it from his fingers. 'But I can find out.'

'Tell me his name.'

'Why should I?' Orion mused, licking the last traces of blood from his lip. Nagini circled him, hissing. Voldemort smirking, flattened nostrils flaring.

'You could be the most useful of mongrels,' he whispered, smile widening as Orion hissed in dislike. 'Tell me his name, and you shall serve me as a most valuable accomplice.' Orion purred.

'And I shall have whatever I desire? Surely that's the part that comes next.' Voldemort raised his wand, but scowled when he saw the glint of longing in Orion's gleaming eyes.

'If it suits me,' he conceded. 'Now, the name.' Orion purred, glowing with delight.

'Of course, my master. The one you seek is Malfoy.'

'Malfoy?'

'Yeah. We didn't see him at the manor, did we?'

'Nah. And no one there had seen him either,' Harry sighed, tickling Silver's stomach, which showed, after little hassle, a clear blue line. He wriggled, before rolling over and butting Harry's hand tentatively, pushing himself under it into secure warmth.

'It's so odd,' Hermione mused. 'Blaise told me, in Arithmancy, that Lucius Malfoy had been granted a temporary release from his binding to allow him to visit Hogwarts again to look for Draco.'

'Urgh,' Ron snarled. 'I can hardly contain my joy.' Chudley was chewing on Ron's old quill. It was obviously it wasn't the first time. Harry smiled weakly. It was clear what Ron needed for Christmas.

'It's not as if he'll find anything,' Harry commented as he took an instruction sheet as the stack flew over his head. 'If Malfoy is still at the school, none of the professors have managed to locate him, and they know the school better than anyone. If Draco's found some hidey hole, they might never find him.'

'Good riddance,' Ron muttered. Hermione hit him, albeit gently. Hermione frowned.

'If he was in the school, he'd show up on the,' she broke into a stage whisper, '"map", wouldn't he?' Harry pushed his glasses up his nose.

'I guess so,' he mused. The map reminded him of too much pain, too many memories of loved ones stolen from pensieves. He honestly hadn't touched it all autumn.

'Can we check it later?' Hermione persisted. 'It'll be interesting, you know, just in case.'

'I bet he's not here,' Ron cut in before Harry had to try and fend her off. 'He probably escaped through one of the tunnels into Hogsmeade and ran. I know if I was feeling wacko I wouldn't want to be cooped up here. He's probably scratching out a living in a damp old cave somewhere.' Ron smirked a little. 'I hope it's inhabited by dragons...'

'Ron!' Hermione complained half heartedly.

''mione!' Ron complained right back, going glassy eyed. 'Don't spoil the moment. I've got the perfect mental image of Malfoy the caveman beating himself over the head with a bone...'

Hermione just rolled her eyes, taking Tigerlily out of her box. Hagrid was behind his hut, in the forest, fiddling with something he said was 'important'. Professor Grubbly-Plank was taking today off (visiting her sister in Hogsmeade), but she had stayed long enough to dole out some parchments on today's lesson plan, entitled: 'Extended Project Type F: Penndragones. Part IV: Obedience.' Harry read over this sheet briefly, scratching his scar thoughtfully. It had really stung earlier. However, all he had heard was 'TOM RIDDLE..' before the screaming and the pain began, and he was unable to decipher what howls of agony were inside his mind, and which were his own. Although Voldemort seemed able to shut Harry out of his mind in terms of clear, lengthily visions, these short spurts of high emotion seemed to still burst through. He sighed, trying to focus on the task he was now presented with. Hermione had just gone off on a new Velma the detective tangent, discussing the possibility that Draco had been transfigured by one of his classmates to hide him, or something like that. Harry ignored her, lifted Silver out of his lap onto the famous tree stump and tapped the now dozy dragon on the nose.

'Time to wake up and work,' he said softly. Silver blinked up at him through big grey eyes, before cheeping curiously. Harry put the sheet on his lap, scanning the top box again briefly.

'Ok... in the exam, you have to show dedication, loyalty and physical prowess,' he explained. 'Physical prowess will be tested based on the measurements I take and the opinions of the examiners yadda yadda... ah! You have to complete four tasks on my command.'

'Gyak?' Silver enquired.

'I guess it's like telling a dog to sit,' Harry mused. 'Except, of course, you're not a dog.'

'Mwii!' Silver vehemently agreed. Of course, he wasn't entirely sure what he was, but the name dog certainly did not ring any bells. Harry squinted at the page.

'You have to "speak", "follow", "spit" and "come", it says here. Then there'll be the flying test, where you'll have to do as I say based on commands like "up", "west" or whatever the obstacle is... you think you're up for that?' Silver didn't say anything. Harry frowned.

'Well, it's tough if you're not.' Harry scanned the sheet. 'Ok...' He raised his wand, swallowing. 'Let's try these first. Castigus.' A misty hand came out of midair, took one finger and tapped Silver hard on the nose. He staggered back, squeaking in startled, sad tones.

'Oh! Sorry, sorry, sorry!' Harry cooed, scooping Silver up (he resisted a little) and hugging him close, stroking his nose and smoothing the straightening feathers of his wings. 'I'll try not to do it again.' Silver grumbled forgivingly, stepping gently back onto the tree stump before sitting primly, eyeing Harry suspiciously. Harry groaned, running a hand through his hair.

'Ok, the punishing Spell works. How about... Elogio?' Again the misty hand appeared. Silver, shied, but the hand tickled gently under his chin, before petting him kindly. Silver couldn't resist stretching and leaning into the caress, before crinkling his nose in disappointment when the hand vanished.

'That's a bit better,' Harry said softly, mimicking the hand for a second. Silver's velveteen scales radiated the warmth of his body into Harry's hand, sending endorphins pumping from his brain. Silver mewed, before circling the stump and laying down.

'Nu-uh,' Harry said, lifting him back up. 'No sleeping. You have to work now.' Silver growled, snapping at Harry's fingers.

'Castigus,' Harry said automatically, before regretting it when Silver began yipping at him.

'Gaaah...' Harry groaned. 'Silencio.' Silver, now rendered mute, resolutely turned away from Harry.

'Don't be difficult...' Harry pleaded, gently persuading Silver to turn around. The dragon glared at him, and for a flash of a second, Harry saw someone familiar in those narrowed, sulky grey eyes. Hurriedly, he ignored that thought.

'You have to do things when I tell you. It's part of the test.' Silver looked curious, but irritated. 'So when I say "come", for example, you have to come to me, OK?' Silver frowned, before nudging Harry's wrist with his nose.

'No, I can't use the bracelet,' Harry sighed. 'You have to walk or run over to me, and then stop in front of me. It says so here on the pamphlet.' Silver huffed. 'It does! Look!' Harry held up the pamphlet, before turning when he heard a soft laugh behind him. He turned to see Hermione smiling brightly at him, Tigerlily being petted by the Elogios Spell.

'You two are so adorable,' she said dreamily. 'I'm so glad.' Harry smiled weakly, colouring a little, before turning away to his troublesome Penndragonne, who was now eyeing Tigerlily with piqued curiosity, not to mention envy.

'L-Let's start with "Spit",' Harry decided out loud. He heard Ron protest when on the same command Chudley began drooling all over the redhead's robes. Silver eyed Chudley in indignant disgust.

'It means spit fire,' Harry added quickly. 'Either... balls, rings or another clear shape that you will be asked to explain...' Silver rocked back on his hind legs, swaying a little, before, with a great swallow of breath, belched a quick succession of flames into the air. They weren't totally round, and they weren't even in size, but there was no smoke, and Silver didn't wheeze. Harry smiled.

'Let's try "follow" next...'

Hermione had forgotten about the map by the evening. In fact, the next time she mentioned it was at the end of the week, on Saturday, which, incidentally, was the 4th of December, and the bi-annual Hogsmeade Winter Fayre. All students with permission slips had been let out to wreak havoc, sixth years and above being allowed a tentative late curfew (Harry noted a few Order Aurors lurking around. Kingsley Shacklebolt had forced himself not to wave in an awkward gesture that ended up with him scratching his bald head curiously.). As he walked down the high street (Ron and Hermione had peeled off into separate shops along the way, not without Hermione reminding him that she wanted to use the map tonight before she left) he noted the little stalls and booths, all quaint and small and homely, filled with wonderful home made, quality goods. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, Harry decided to walk up to Madam Puddifoot's for some tea (he cringed slightly at the memory of the last time he was in there), and then make his way back down. Silver seemed to agree with him. Harry had denied him coffee for the last time. At breakfast, his instinctual need for caffeine had caused him to upend the teapot in revolt, splashing scaling liquid over about seven student, before spitting angry fire at the nearest passing person... who happened to be Professor McGonnagal. She had deigned not to give Harry a detention, but had asked him specifically to bring Silver to the next transfiguration class with a terseness that had chilled Harry's blood. Silver, irate, was currently tied up in Harry's scarf, lest he get himself into any more trouble before Harry could slip him something to calm him down.

He sighed as he sat alone at one of the two person table, stirring his tea leaves mirthlessly, before pouring himself another cup. The little cafe was full of these irritatingly suggestive tables, and instead of irritating hearts and confetti, it was filled with mistletoe and decorations on a silver and leafy theme. One of the cakes on Harry's little three tiered stand had two fairies ice skating, who stopped, Charmed mistletoe and planted a smacker on each others lips... before, simultaneously, Harry stabbed his knife through the cake, and Silver took a hearty swipe at it. They looked up at each other.

'Nicely done,' Harry said, more brightly, before cutting the cake in two and watching silver gut his piece, before putting his nose back in the coffee cup. Harry sighed, looking out of the window as a light, fine snow fell, exciting the younger ones, who opened their mouths, trying to catch the tiny flakes, or ran around, arms spread like wings laughing. Harry frowned. Sixteen. He was sixteen, going on seventeen. When did that happen?

'Urgh,' he managed, checking for about the seventeenth time that Silver's coffee was white pale with the dilution of milk he'd demanded. Silver, desperate as he was, didn't seem to care. Harry began breaking up his cake with a fork, listening sulkily as the door twinkled open and closed from time to time, and the soft mutterings and gabble issued between the other customers.

'They need a new teashop,' Harry mumbled bitterly. Silver eyed him for a moment, before lapping another mouthful of coffee.

'I'm sure you'd rather we had a Starbucks,' Harry grumbled. Silver ignored him. That word, whatever it was, was in neither of his vocabularies, and therefore was unimportant. They sat in companionable silence, Harry drinking his tea thoughtfully, piecing together the last few years, focusing particularly on events occurring around this godforsaken teashop. He groaned again, taking a bite of the remarkably good cake, despite the murdered fairy twitching on the icing. It was then that he heard the giggle that chilled him colder than a winter wind ever could. His head snapped up, before snapping down again hurriedly. He tensed up, not sure whether to be embarrassed or angry. Cho. And one of her cohorts. And two dashingly handsome boys Harry wasn't sure if he recognised. Cho was laughing as one of them stroked her arm. Surreptitiously, Harry eyed her. She was, undeniably, very pretty. Pixie features, soft, handsome angles to her heart shaped face. She was a beauty. But, amazingly, Harry's stomach didn't flop. His heart didn't flutter. In fact, he just felt a little... he supposed it was a kind of hurt. He supposed it was a kind of nausea. He wasn't over it, but he wasn't feeling as bad as he thought he might. Cho did notice him. She looked straight at him in fact. He looked up to find himself locked with eye contact, before she jumped, stared straight through him, and looked over in another direction, commenting to her beau on the decor.

'Low, Chang,' Harry muttered with a small smile. It was almost funny, A girl about a million times more attractive than he was, and a year older, getting all a flutter because someone she kissed and screwed up with made eye contact with her. The four of them sat down on two little tables, about half way across the cafe from him, and he went back to his tea. One of the boys looked at him and snickered. Whether Cho had mentioned something mean about him, or he was bloke-ishly laughing at the guy who'd brought his bloody penndragonne to Madam Puddifoots, he didn't know or much care. His cheeks flushed a little, however, and he hurriedly poured himself the last cup of tea in the pot. Silver watched him quietly during this exchange, before looking over at the boy in question. When Harry looked up again, Silver had vanished.

'Silver?' he asked, aware that he couldn't be too loud. 'Silver!' There was a small creak from above his head, and Harry looked up, watching a tail swish from in the midst of a large bunch of winter berries.

'Get back here!' he hissed, but Silver ignored him, gliding effortlessly over to another bunch, and then another, before landing on the chandelier above the boy's head. The people at the table next to Harry (two witches in their mid twenties by the glance of it), were now looking in Harry's direction, curiously, having not spotted the runty dragon now surveying the people below with a nasty glint in it's misted eyes. Harry scraped his hands along his scalp.

'Don't do it,' he begged almost silently. 'It's cool. Just... don't...'

'GYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!' the boy screamed, leaping to his feet as something landed a top his head with a slap. 'GET IT OFF ME!'

'Drew!' Cho's friend was on her feet in shock. Cho was staring at her boyfriend in horror, before her eyes dragged slowly over to Harry, who was staring at the scene through gaps in his fingers. They moved back equally slowly as 'Drew' began beating his hands on his head, trying to dislodge whatever was on there. His hand came down hard on Silver's tail, and Silver yowled, biting down hard on the boy's hand. In agony, he screamed again, swinging his arm away and himself staggering back and upending a few of the (thankfully) empty tables. Silver flew off the boy's hand and skidded across the table in front of Cho, claws digging into the table cloth and wood below.

'Oh Merlin,' Harry managed.

'What the bloody hell is that!' The other boy snapped, going to swat Silver, before Silver belched several fireballs at the boy, snarling and spitting and arching and flapping like a wild thing. Which, in retrospect, wasn't too far from the truth. Harry, still clutching his head in horror, noticed the black band around his wrist.

'In my hands,' he whispered desperately into it. Nothing happened. Harry groaned, noting that one of the three knots Hermione had used to tie it on had become undone. Meanwhile, Silver was rearing and snarling as if he were Godzilla, stomping on hind feet and shouting back draconic obscenities as fast as 'Drew' could spew them, tangled in one of the other table's tablecloths. Cho was the only one still at the table, and when Silver turned to her, he was very quiet, staring curiously up into her pretty face. He watched slowly as she raised her wand, her face unreadable.

'Petri-' she began, before Silver spat fire at her, singeing her eyebrow and making her tip her chair over backwards. The two witches were in hysterics, clapping their hands. She got to her feet, fuming, as Harry gave up on the bracelet and managed to swallow his mortification long enough to get to his feet and try to sort this out. Cho glared down as Silver, who, with a grin and sadistic flick of his tail upended her teacup (which thankfully only had the trickle of milk in it). She fumed, making the noise of a steaming kettle, before raising her wand again.

'Cho-' Harry began, quickly traversing the tea shop, but it wasn't necessary. Silver, cockily bearing his teeth, puffed out another little pop of flame, which hit her in the hand, making her drop the wand and yelp. It clattered to the floor. Silver barked at her as her eyes watered and she snarled, and with a reptilian grin, snatched up her teacake and fluttered awkwardly back to Harry, landing in his hands and nuzzling against his robes, glowering smugly at the irate Chinese girl. She glared at Harry, shaking in outrage. And suddenly, Harry wasn't mortified. He merely cocked and eyebrow, slightly shaky hands being steadied by Silver's reassuring weight.

'Chang,' he said without falter.

'What the hell do you think you're playing at?' Cho spat as the others helped Drew up.

'Trying to get me back for not putting up with you longer?' Silver hissed nastily.

'Actually, I was having a pot of tea,' Harry struck back quickly, feeling a little irate at that last comment himself. 'I had a rough night's sleep.'

'Like I care!' Cho hissed. Harry, losing all respect for her by the second, could see she was almost forcing this anger. 'You've ruined my morning! Happy now!'

'Actually, it was the penndragonne that ruined your morning,' Harry answered flatly. 'Which I do apologise for. And no, I'm not happy. But, I suppose, since you don't care, you're not really interested in that aspect of my feelings.'

'Stop making this about you!' Cho shot back.

'Makes a change from it being about you,' Harry said quietly but clearly.

'You leave her alone!' Her female friend spat at him. Silver spat back a fireball and she yelped.

'That... thing,' Cho's voice dripped venom, 'has ruined our tea!' Harry sighed heavily and reached inside his pocket. He placed a galleon on the table.

'Get yourself some more then,' he said bluntly, before moving off towards the door. She stood in his way.

'I'm going to report that thing to Professor Dumbledore!' She growled, but it was higher than normal, like she was forcing it.

'I'm sure that'll be lovely,' Harry said dryly. 'Now if you'd kindly move, I have friends to meet up with.'

'Like Hermione Granger?' Cho smirked.

'No, actually.' Harry said with a smile. 'Blaise Zabini.' He moved past her as cleanly as he could, handing the money for his tea and Silver's coffee (distracted, Silver tried to grab and espresso, which Harry dragged him back from.) to a passing waitress.

'You can't just walk out like this!' Cho demanded. Silver peeped up at Harry, cocking his head.

'What is there to stop me?' Harry called over his shoulder, before leaving the shop with a tinkle of the door. He walked briskly, before turning the corner and slumping, exhausted against the wall. Silver's tiny, reassuring claws stopped digging into his palms, and he began to tremble. Silver wormed up his body and under his open jacket, pressing his head to the dip in Harry's neck, purring softly and nuzzling the skin, liquid eyes gazing up at Harry with reassurance and loyalty. Smiling, Harry took a deep breath and patted Silver gently, running a hand over the tiny body with loving tenderness.

'Thank you,' he whispered, hoisting the dragon onto his shoulder, letting it snake around his neck. In his sudden brash, perhaps even coarse actions, Silver had not only shown up the infallible she-beast that was Cho Chang, but he had managed to give Harry something that he now realised that in his boyish naiveté he never would have been able to attain for himself.

Closure. And for that, he was eternally grateful.

'Good Afternoon Harry,' Ryan called as Harry passed him. Harry merely smiled and waved, and tried not to laugh at the shockingly obvious covert operations of the entire fourth year who were walking from stall to stall up the street, with their eyes fixed surely on one dusty-blonde prize. Harry was actually on his way to meet Ron. Fred and George had a small marquee up somewhere in Hogsmeade, and Ron had promised to show Harry... once he'd found it. Harry had no intention of meeting up with Blaise Zabini. Blaise Zabini, on the other hand, had other ideas.

'Potter,' he said, stepping out in front of him. The penndragonne he was using for his course, Loki, was curled around his shoulders, now about three times longer than silver and several shades darker. His eyes, glossy Slytherin Green, locked with Silver's, but neither dragon snarled, Loki out of a lack of threat, and Silver out of a sense of propriety. After all, he was not a guard dog.

'Zabini,' Harry responded calmly. 'Having a good day?'

'Indeed I am,' he said calmly, Pansy Parkinson appearing at his shoulder. She looked better.

'We found a stall you might like,' Pansy said calmly. Harry shuddered. He was so in trouble now.

'Thanks for the offer,' he responded kindly. 'But I have to go and meet Ron...'

'Weasley can wait,' Pansy snapped. 'This is important.' Harry frowned, hand twitching towards his wand.

'Can't I at least go and tell him where I'm going?' Harry asked earnestly. Zabini's wand was out in a flash.

'ExSpelliarmus!' He said firmly, catching Harry's wand as Silver spat. 'And nice try. You don't even know where you're going.' Now Harry was really worried.

'Oh don't look so glum,' Pansy ordered, shoving him in the back. 'It's not going to be that bad.'

'Sure it's not,' Harry mumbled. He had a horrible feeling about this.

For once in his life, he was oh so glad to be wrong.

'George Saint? Breeder of top quality Penndragonne stock?'

'Recognised world wide for his prowess in the art and his commitment to conservation,' Pansy quoted off the bottom of the sign. 'He moved in last week. Come on.'

'Why the hell have you brought me to a penndragonne breeder?' Harry asked as Pansy dragged him along by the arm, Blaise walking lazily by his side.

'Actually, we were just going to kidnap the runt and bring him instead,' he drawled. 'but we figured you might get upset.'

'And no body likes a celebrity when he's angry,' Pansy concluded. 'Oh, stop pulling you ninny.'

'I still don't understand why you're taking me... or Silver here.'

'Silver?' Pansy asked, eyeing Blaise who nodded. 'Cute.' Silver snorted softly, head bobbing like a viper's as Harry trudged reluctantly towards the building. They passed through an invisible barrier, and the air was suddenly warm. Blaise shrugged off his mink lined coat.

'Is anyone going to tell me why you are ruining my perfectly good day out and dragging me here?'

'One, we've got a late curfew, so you can stop whining right now,' Blaise snapped. 'And why we brought you here is of little or no consequence to you. If, however, your inquiring Gryffindor mind needs to know,' Blaise looked at Harry with distain. 'We've brought you here to meet the man responsible for breeding the penndragonnes on our course.'

'Enchanting,' Harry growled. 'So, once again, why am I here!'

'Gryffindors,' Pansy groaned, hauling him forward despite her comparatively diminutive height. She seemed to be recovering from those injuries very well. That, or Harry needed to be privy to the Slytherins' workout.

'Potter,' she snapped. 'Listen to what we are telling you. We're not going to curse you, set Rubeus Hagrid's mangy monstrosities on you, force you to do anything degrading or possibly hazardous to your health. We are not going to harm you or your,' she fumbled on the word. 'Penndragonne in any way, shape, form, thing, object, Spell or potion. All you have to do is chill out and enjoy yourself. This won't take long.' She narrowed her eyes, glaring back at him as they approached the door. 'And if you keep incessantly yanking on my arm, Potter, I will be forced to petrify you and levitate you in. Do I make myself clear?' Silver made a whistling noise, blinking at Harry.

'Crystal,' Harry said, trying to pretend that Pansy Parkinson was not one of the most terrifying people he had ever met. And he was personally acquainted with Voldemort.

'Deary me, what's all the racket out here then?' said a cheerful age-roughened voice. Harry was shocked at the sudden change in Pansy's attitude. She released his arm, but it was clear that if he ran, he would be hexed within an inch of his life.

'Hello there, Mister Saint,' she simpered. 'It's awfully nice to meet you. My name is Pansy, and these are my dear friends Harry and Blaise.' Harry choked back an indignant snort.

'Oh,' the elderly man said, peering through little round spectacles. 'Is that one of mine?' Blaise's penndragonne wriggled out of his coat and fluttered over to Mr Saint, cooing. Blaise smothered a look of distain.

'We've come to talk to you about-'

'Oh, yes, it is you. There's a good boy, eh?'

'Breeeeeeee!' Loki nuzzled the old man's cheek.

'Excuse-'

'You've grown so big already! Just like your dad, eh?'

'Mrrrreeeee!'

'Excuse me, Mister Saint,' Blaise snapped before clearing his throat and taking a calmling breath. 'We've come to talk to you about this,' he gestured to Silver, who Pansy was eyeing silently. 'penndragonne. He's not one of yours…. We'd just like your expert opinion on him.' Harry glared at Blaise, trying to work out what he was playing at.

'Hmm,' Mr Saint pondered. 'I'm sure I could give him a quick look over for you.' He shuffled back towards the door. 'Well, some in, all of you. And please, call me George. Can't be doing with these formalities.' He vanished inside the cottage. Blaise, thanking him formally, followed. Pansy jabbed Harry in the back.

'Just a few minutes of your precious time, Potter,' she hissed. 'Then you can go.'

'Why don't I believe you?' Harry snarled. Pansy narrowed the eye that wasn't covered by an ornamental eyepatch.

'Because you're stupid,' she commented dryly, before jabbing him again. 'Now move.'

The inside the cottage was narrow and cramped with big pieces of antiquated furniture. It reminded Harry vaguely of what a Grandparent's house should feel like, and also the burrow. The walked into the entrance hall, and then continued down a long main corridor with many doors going off it. All were open or ajar, and Harry was fascinated by the contents. One room had a huge fluffy bed in it, and on the end was a tangle of grey-gold bodies, snoozing together as two of the large serpentine grey gold creatures tumbled and played on the floor, ruby eyes flashing. Another room was full of shelves of nests, most with a fat, dozing penndragonne sitting on top. Heat blasted out of that room. Another room was completely dark, but Harry sensed that something was moving inside. A further two rooms were filled entirely with pillows and cushions and soft toys. The walls seemed to be padded thickly as well. Even the rafters, which criss-crossed the room lower and more numerously than was necessary, were covered in white padding. The reason became clear when the cheeping started. Dozens of tiny hatchling penndragonnes were tumbling and playing on the floor of the room, and larger ones were stretching their wings and preening, trying the glide between the rafters. Rooms like these filled the house it seemed. A home for penndragonnes, not for people.

'Here we are then,' Mr Saint said cheerfully, using a heavy, tarnished key to unlock the last door on the left. 'My office. Go in and settle yourself down, and I'll make us some tea.' And with that, he opened the door on the right and vanished up a flight of stairs. Harry watched him go, before being brought sharply back to reality when Pansy jabbed him in the back.

'In,' she demanded. 'Now.' Harry frowned at her and walked inside. She pushed him into one of the armchairs and snatched Silver off his shoulder. The Penndragonne shrieked indignantly.

'Hey!' Harry snapped. Pansy shot him a look.

'Not going to hurt it,' she grumbled, sitting herself down in one of the armchairs. Harry watched her closely, fuming. Silver wasn't writhing in her grasp. He was looking at her hands in a confused sort of manner, before raising his head gracefully and looking up at her face. He chattered mutedly, cocking his head. Harry's frown deepened when he saw her face, always hardened and stern, sort of melt. She smiled a heartbroken sort of smile, and Harry had to admit, she looked almost tragically beautiful. Silver turned neatly in her lap, blinking up at her, huffing a little. Pansy looked up at Blaise, desperately pleading with her eye. Blaise sighed, nodding, before flopping down into one of the chairs. She raised a hand and ran it over the penndragonne's head, neck and back with a featherlight care. Silver didn't really curve into her touch, but he didn't shy away, nor did he bite. Pansy's smile widened just a little, and she began smoothing a finger gently over the penndragonne's brow. Silver's eyes widened a little, before dropping and falling shut, he head drooping to rest on her hand. He purred softly. Harry shifted in his chair, irritable. Pansy chuckled a little as Silver swished his tail. Sure, he was enjoying the petting, but he wasn't about to completely sappy for anyone. Harry frowned, and opened his mouth to speak, but Mr Saint entered, levitating a tray of mugs and biscuits.

'There now,' he cooed, and Loki cheeped. 'Just take a mug and a biscuit and pass it on. I'll just get myself sorted over here.' He bustled over to a heavy mahogany desk, and as if by magic (pardon my pun) heads began to appear out of shelves and cabinets. A pair of large champagne silver Penndragonnes unfurled sleepily on the rafters, cooing like pigeons. The penndragonnes, of which there could have easily been twenty, were of all sizes, but generally more than a metre in length. An exceptionally large dark one hopped off of the chair behind the desk at Mr Saint's command and sat imperiously next to the tea mug, glowering. Mr Saint sat down, chuckling at the dragon.

'Don't mine Thor here,' he said affectionately. 'He's just sleepy. Now, what was it you wanted me to do again?' Pansy stood up, lifting Silver with her, who snapped awake from his dozing with a loud, irritated snort.

'Could you examine this penndragonne, Mr Saint-'

'Please, call me George.' Pansy tried not to glower.

'Ok then, George. Could you please examine this penndragonne for us?'

'Oh,' Mr Saint frowned. 'Is he sick?'

'We don't think so,' Blaise replied coolly. 'However, he didn't come in with the rest of the penndragonnes.' Blaise shot Harry a look. 'He's a pet.' Pansy placed Silver on the desk. He spun around and hissed at her, before snarling at Thor. Thor gave him an appaulked sort of honk, before soaring up into the rafters, between the two golden penndragonnes, chattering indignantly. Goerge hissed through his teeth.

'Ooh he's a grumpy one,' he mused, igniting a bright lamp with his wand. Silver hunched down into his shoulders angrily.

'That's not a normal trait,' Blaise mused, fingers steepled, 'is it, George?'

'Nope,' George murmured. 'You get a few prude ones, like Thor, and a few over enthusiastic ones ho can get a bit claw-happy… but this one's just plain angry.' George rubbed his forehead. 'Strange.'

'He's not always angry-' Harry cut in, but Pansy shot him a glare that silenced him. George picked up a pencil and poked Silver with it. The penndragonne snarled, biting down on it and sinking his claws in. George lifted the pencil, and Silver's fore quarters with it.

'S'not marked,' he mumbled. 'Where did you get him?' Pansy and Blaise looked at him. Harry rolled his eyes.

'I found him. Rather, my friend did.'

'A wild one.'

'We think so.'

'Where did you find him?' George persisted, squinting.

'Erm… around here,' Harry mumbled. Pansy and Blaiuse exchanged a meaningful look.

'In the castle, actually.' George gave Silver the pencil and gave Harry a stern look.

'Penndragonnes, especially ones this small, can't survive the climate this far north.' He gestured to Silver. 'His hide is pale too. He'd freeze, even in summer.' George sighed. 'And penndragonnes, wild ones I mean, don't like living in buildings. They only live in buildings with their keepers. Otherwise…' he gestured to a photo on the wall. 'They live in groves. Light and airy forests. I have a drop off point I use in the New Forest. There's lots of open spaces, as well as the greenery and space they need.' He narrowed his eyes.

'This penndragonne is a European variety, not found on the British mainland by choice. The light frame, the pale skin, the grace and perhaps the arrogance… I'd say he's from French stock.' Pansy looked pointedly at Blaise, who rolled his eyes.

'Oh,' Harry managed. George continued.

'He's got his full set of teeth. For his size, that's very odd. He's small, under developed. His wings certainly aren't big enough. He strikes me as the kind of beast who isn't very confident or happy in the air on his own.' He smiled. 'He's happier with something to hold on to.' Silver finally spat out the pencil and swiped at George's hand. The breeder dodged easily. He caught Silver's head in conjured pair of tweezers.

'His eyes….' George frowned. 'Now that's a rarity.'

'Silver eyes,' Harry mumbled. George nodded.

'Yes… there's an oriental breeder who favours abnormal breeds. I think he has a grey eyed pair. His name's Tseng I think… lives in Venice.' George shook his head. 'But he brands all his stock at birth, just under the chin. Besides, he's focusing on breeding albinos at the moment. I think his grey eyed pair is a bit past their best now, anyway.' He leant back and sighed, releasing Silver who hooted angrily.

'Well, thank you,' Blaise said quickly, nodding to Pansy. She stood up, gesturing to Harry, who obeyed. 'That was very thorough.' George looked a little taken aback by this sudden move to leave.

'Oh… you're welcome,' he said politely. Harry rushed forwards and collected Silver up, who cuddled in to him, cheeping dolefully.

'We'll be leaving then,' Blaise said, walking out of the office. 'Come along, Potter.' George smiled as Harry turned to leave.

'He likes you,' he said with a smile. 'He seems a little… vacuous, but you calm him down.' Harry smiled bashfully.

'I try,' he replied. George smiled, taking off his spectacles to clean them. Thor dropped back onto the desk and began preening himself.

'If you're ever looking to breed from him, drop me a line,' he called as Harry moved to the office door. 'He'll make good stock when he's grown.' Harry nodded.

'Thanks!' he called, before hurrying out of the house. He shut the door with a click, sighing heavily. Pansy and Blaise were waiting for him. They grabbed his jumped and began shoving him forwards.

'Hey!' Harry complained/ They stopped as they got to the property barrier.

'Well, as nice as this has been, Potter,' Blaise sighed, stepping out into the snow. Harry frowned, shrugging on his coat.

'Whatever,' he grumbled, before storming off in the direction of The Hog's Head. Blaise watched him go, before sensing Pansy beside him, ready to burst.

'Well?' he said lazily. 'Happy now?' Pansy smirked.

'Ecstatically so, Blaise-dear,' she purred, before squealing. 'Did you hear him? He said-'

'That the penndragonne wasn't normal. Yes I heard him.'

'They can't survive in the wild this far north, they don't have grey eyes and he's under grown, but with perfect teeth. Blaaaaise!' Blaise rubbed the bridge of his nose.

'You're getting your hopes up.'

'Oh come on!' she snapped, batting him on the arm. 'Be reasonable, Blaise. I'm a grumpy invalid who hadn't gotten any chocolate yet due to operation abduct scarhead. Let this one inkling of joy into my miserable life.' Blaise rolled his eyes.

'Fine. All arrows point to it being him.'

'Blaise! Not arrows, proof! It IS him! There's no doubt about it.'

'There's plenty of doubt, Parkinson.'

'Zabini, you over-inbred prat of a pureblood. It's got his eyes.'

'Maybe it's his bastard love-child.'

'Blaise!' Pansy hit him again. 'That's gross and nasty and gross.'

'I apologise.'

'Good.'

There was an amiable silence between the two for a time.

'Ew,' Pansy finally managed, spluttering. Blaise cocked an eyebrow.

'What?' he asked dryly. Pansy grimaced.

'He was snuggling. Up to Potter. You don't think…'

'Pansy…' Blaise warned. Pansy's eyes twinkled, lost between glee and horror.

'That would be…'

'Troublesome, sick, wrong, impossible, gross, nasty and BELOW him,' Blaise snapped quickly. Pansy grinned.

'Not unless he bottoms.'

'Parkinson! So help me I will unforgivable you into next week if you don't shut up- oh goooood!' Pansy frowned as Blaise stormed away, massaging his temples.

'What?' she asked innocently. Blaise whimpered.

'Damnit woman,' he snarled, 'now I have mental images.' Pansy froze for a second before bursting into raucous laughter.

'Oooooh are they good?' she jibed.

'Ye-NO! NO! DAMNIT WOMAN!' Blaise stormed off into the bustling streets of Hogsmeade, an elated Pansy on his tail, howling with laughter.

While the snow fluttered gently outside in tiny grainy flakes, the students of Hogwarts took refuge inside the little shops and cafes of Hogsmeade, and the younger students inside the reassuringly imposing castle of the school. The window to the Gryffindor sixth year's dormitory was open, allowing the chill breeze to rush into the room, ruffling even the heavy curtains and drapes. The fire had been extinguished, and the room was dark, save for the shaft of faded light from the window. Ryan lay, sprawled across someone's bed, his head hanging off the other side. He was watching some spiders, who were frantically running to and fro, smouldering, obviously very distressed.

'You shouldn't lie like that,' said a voice as the room went dark. 'All the blood will rush to your head.' Ryan smiled wanly, and the spiders burst into flame.

'And since that is your area of speciality…' he drawled, rolling over onto his stomach and sitting up. He turned to the window, smiling as the boy climbed in through the window, wisps of smoke lingering on his clothes.

'Travelling by day,' Ryan mused, languidly switching into his natural form. 'You must have really wanted to see me.' Aquilla frowned.

'One does as one is told,' he said evenly. 'You seem well.'

'I am. What do you want?' Aquilla swallowed hard as Orion cocked an eyebrow.

'It's not a case of what I want,' Aquilla replied calmly. 'It's what Lucius wants.'

'And what would that be?'

'You know damn well what he wants!' Aquilla snapped, slumping onto a bed and drawing the curtains to block the light. 'He wants to know where the boy is.' Orion pondered for a moment, tapping two fingers on his lower lip. Aquilla watched, entranced.

'Tell him I'm still looking,' he said after pause.

'You'll have to lie better than that,' Aquilla snorted, running a hand through dusty hair. Orion crinkled his nose.

'Fine,' he growled. 'I've established myself at the school, and I've acquired a well connected informant. When she knows something, I'll know something.' Aquilla watched Orion's eyes as they admired long white fingers vainly.

'Anything else?' Aquilla asked, voice dry. Orion shot him a look playfully.

'For him or for you?' he purred. Aquilla frowned.

'Both,' he sighed. 'Lucius will want to know your theory as to the boy's location.' Orion said nothing, as if he had not heard Aquilla speak. Aquilla sighed.

'I'll tell him you think the boy is in the castle.' Orion whined.

'But then he'll come up here!' he protested, pouting. 'I'm having far too much fun for him to come here and spoil it.' Aquilla's frown remained even and Orion gave in. 'Fine. But I'm not telling him where the boy is.'

'So you know?' Aquilla pursued. Orion laughed, getting to his feet.

'Of course I know!' he chuckled, walking over to Aquilla's bed, climbing on top of the mattress and fluidly straddling the half-breed vampire with alarming ease. 'It's my job to know, isn't it?'

'But you're not going to tell him,' Aquilla observed. 'Because you hate Draco.' Orion ran fingers in caresses over Aquilla's face, watching a flush rise to the unhealthily pale skin.

'Perhaps,' he toyed. 'Or maybe I hate Lucius.' Aquilla raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

'Or… maybe I just like it here.'

'Communal meals, communal bathrooms, communal bed chambers…' Aquilla snorted.

'Yeah, I'm sure you're loving it.' Aquilla purred out a laugh.

'Oh, it's not so bad,' he mused, lowering his lead slowly to Aquilla's neck, mumbling against the skin. 'It makes 'play-time' a lot more interesting.' Aquilla shied away from Orion's touch.

'Please don't tell me you're sleeping with a bunch of school brats,' he grumbled. Orion nipped him, grinning.

'Then I won't tell you,' he growled, before capturing Aquilla's mouth in a chaste, feverish kiss. As he leant into the creature beneath him, Orion broke the kiss, grinning. Aquilla trembled beneath him.

'You…' he whispered. 'You want the Malfoy fortune…'

'Yes…' Orion breathed, mouthing across Aquilla's cheekbone.

'And you'll kill the boy for it? Lucius isn't going to hand you an inheritance just because he's lost an heir.' Orion growled and Aquilla yelped in pain.

'Lucius is a fool,' Orion hissed. 'And precious little Draco is a weakling runt of a fool and whore.' He smirked. 'I'm stronger and smarter and more powerful than he'll ever be.' He snarled. 'However, it takes time to drum intelligent notions into a skull as thick as a Malfoy's.' He laughed in a deep hum. 'Lucius will thank me, when it's over. He doesn't know it now, of course, but that useless whelp is doing him more harm than good. Lucius is no leader. He was born to be a follower, to be behind the figurehead, pushing him ever forward, and reaping the profit rather than the glory. Now he's left Voldemort, he's just a struggling wannabe rogue with a brain full of pointless notions and battalion of idealistic cannon fodder. If he didn't have to care so much about that ridiculous boy,' Orion nearly spat the word with malice. 'He could just carry on. He'd be out of that house by now, back at the Dark Lord's side, doing his bidding. Doing his duty, Aquilla. But no… his stupid human emotions have overpowered his futile human brain, and he's turned to mush at the sight of a little Malfoy blood.' Orion bit down on Aquilla's neck possessively, sending heat roaring through half-dead veins. 'He doesn't know where the boy is. Soon, he won't care, and it won't matter.' His eyes flamed. 'I'll make it so it doesn't matter.'

'And what about Draco?' Aquilla cut in, breathlessly. 'If you're so… keen on this plan, you can't leave loose ends.'

'Draco?' Orion pondered, smirking nastily, eyes glittering. 'Precious little powder puff Drakey-kins? Who cares? He's out of the picture. Old news. The only ones still fussing over him are his parents and his housemates. The latter are easily and swiftly dealt with, and Narcissa can be easily distracted.' He ran hands down Aquilla's sides with professional finesse. 'Lucius can be made to forget, and then it's just a case of dealing with the boy himself. And he won't be alive for very much longer.' Aquilla shoved Orion off him, pinning him to the bed with one arm. His brow was furrowed.

'What did you do to him?' he snarled. Orion chuckled.

'I've just amplified the effects of what he's done,'Orion mused in an eery sing-song voice. 'He did it, you know. What Lucius asked of him.'

'He's an animagus?'

'Oh yes,' Orion laughed. 'Draco Malfoy the amazing Dragon runt.' Aquilla's eyes widened.

'The penndragonne at the mansion…'

'Clever little blood sucker,' Orion purred, caressing Aquilla's face. Aquilla pinned his arm lightning fast.

'Why is he dying?' Orion rolled his eyes.

'He wasn't ready. He was inexperienced, unbalanced and on his own. The first rule of metamorphosis is never do it alone, or at least, not until you've mastered coming back.' Orion sighed, trying to hide his impish grin, delighting in this scheme. 'He got stuck, and that Potter boy found him.'

'Harry Potter? The one who-'

'Yes, that Potter. And I found him next.' Orion snorted. 'He was already forgetting himself, giving into the animal. I just got rid of the boundaries. Made him forget faster. I'd give him… four, five months until he's lost for good.'

'For Merlin's sake, Orion,' Aquilla hissed after a disgusted pause. 'If you're going to insist on killing the brat, why won't you just do it and get it over with? Dragging it out… it's just sick.' But Orion wasn't listening. His eyes were locked on the door. Aquilla knew that stare all to well. Orion was working his magic.

'…come in…' he whispered, voice laced with potent magical energy. Aquilla's head swam, but he shook himself back to reality, letting Orion up as the door opened, revealing a girl in school uniform, carrying a satchel. Her eyes were glazed, her cheeks flushed. She looked confused. She was fighting.

'I heard everything,' she said, in a shaky voice. 'You… You're not human. You're going to kill Draco Malfoy.'

'Perhaps…' Orion drawled, winking at Aquilla. Aquilla rolled his eyes. Teenage girls were probably the easiest target for someone who worked in hormones and libido and lustful glances.

'I…. I'm going to tell Harry,' she said shakily. 'I'll find the spell, and turn Draco back… from being Silver, I mean.' She narrowed her glazed brown eyes. 'You won't get away with anything.'

'Won't I?' Orion mused.

'N-no,' she affirmed. Orion sighed, and Aquilla sank into the shadows of the room, shaking his head and heading for home.

'That's very noble of you,' Orion purred. 'I admire that in a girl.' He sighed, eyes flaming red and gold. 'Now, won't you come inside, so we can have a chat?' Her resolve was breaking. Slowly, reluctantly, she closed the doors and faced him again. Orion smiled winningly, beckoning her to his with a hand.

'I've so been looking forward to meeting you, Ginny. Hermione has told me everything about you.'

'Everything?'

'Oh yes. Now, come and sit down, and we'll see about that… chat.'

* * *

A/N

sigh I love Orion and Aquilla and Blaise and Pansy sooo much…

Draco's back next chapter. And I'll write some more Lucius smut to make up for my crapolaness, too

REVIEWS PLZ OK THANKYOU


	15. Chapter 15

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I'm a University student. If I owned Harry, Draco or the Harry Potter Franchise, would I really be bothering?

I do, however, own Orion and Aquilla. Not that that's anything to be proud of, but hey.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: SLASH! _

_Also warnings... : This story is quite dark. I think black becomes me._

A/N

When I write a chapter I make a list of plot points I need to cover. Sometimes I write about three chapters worth at once. I restrict it to about 5 or 6 a chapter. Well. I try to. I think there are seven in this chapter. From now on every single chapter will have a point which will be followed by the words 'SMUT FIX' because I've deprived you for long. This might be a frisky make out scene, full on sex, Lucius style torture or something fun. But I digress from my point. As I go, I delete these plot points for a sense of accomplishment. As I write this, I keep seeing those plot points vanish, and I move them about, wiggle the order, and still they keep going. And as I delete each one, a thought runs through my head that doesn't usually run through my head:

THE TIME IS FINALLY HERE!

I've been plotting this scene since the beginning. And I am so looking forward to it. As I write this, I have 5 plot points to cover, but like a pleasant day, they're going so fast. I'm going to savour them, but try and get this chapter out soon.

Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for waiting so long.

The time is finally here.

Draco Malfoy is back at Hogwarts.

WARNINGS:

Torture, M/M/M, Questionable Consent, BDSM, Blood play

Apologies for Delay:

I went on Holiday, twice, I did an entire Manga in a week for a competition, I moved out of home and into Uni. I am so sorry this took so long, but this has been a PARTICULARLY busy time for me. I will try harder!

* * *

Christmas was drawing in fast. There were just two weeks of term left. The Gryffindor common room was a jumble of gold and red glittering ornaments and flags, and the atmosphere was warm and festive. However, in the Slytherin common room, despite the twinkling beauty of the silvery, sparse ornamentation and frosted bunches of Christmas greenery, the atmosphere was subdued, restless, unhappy. These were the children of death eaters, the children of the revolution. Children who had been betrayed, or knew those who had been betrayed. Children who had seen their friends or family carted away to become servants to the devil. Children who were alone, isolated within their community. Who was the child of a Death Eater? Who was a child of the new rebelling dark force? Who was a child of a family who sympathised with the light, or refused to take a side? Who would be next to die? Who would be next to crack? Who would be next to suffer, to be tortured, to vanish?

Who would be the next Draco Malfoy?

He'd become some what of a legend in the lower regions of the castle. Everyone knew his name. Regal, blunt, moody, he spent his time studying or doing something particularly regal like conjuring and playing the piano or sketching or just sitting in on of the large secret study rooms, staring up into the lake which, through a wall of paned glass, sent trickles of blue, dappled light and the shadows of fish across the floor and the fine angles of his face. You did as you were told with Draco Malfoy. His Dad was a powerful Death Eater. He was growing to be a powerful wizard. And all the tough kids who punched hard did his bidding. You did not mess with Draco Malfoy. You were privileged to spend time in his presence. You did not ever doubt that.

Except he wasn't the faithful little crony of the Dark Lord that everyone always thought he was. He hadn't got a dark mark. Voldemort, when he had attacked the school, could have plucked Harry Potter out of the crowd, surely. No. He chose Draco Malfoy. And he tortured him, within an inch of life, and into madness. He'd hardly spoken. He'd spent most of his time in his room or in the hospital wing. He'd screamed. All night. Last time anyone had checked, Draco Malfoy did not scream. He ranted, he raved, he shouted, he hissed, he drawled, he sneered, but he did not scream. Not unless he was really suffering. Not unless he couldn't hold it back. Now, nothing was held back. He was laid bare, the terrified, torn young man, lost in a complicated world that he couldn't cope with, though he was doing his damned best.

And then, he was gone. And no one could find him.

But Pansy Parkinson had a damn good idea where he might be.

'Theo, you've got classes with Weasley, right?'

'Yeah,' Theodore Nott replied, bored. 'Sports Medi-Magic.' Pansy frowned at him for his lack of enthusiasm.

'Well, you can keep an eye on him. Ask him about Draco.' She tossed him a small canister. Theodore frowned. 'It's Veritaspray. Don't waste it.'

'This stuffs illegal!' Theodore chocked, sitting bolt upright. 'I heard it turned some guy in Nepal blind!' Pansy rolled her eyes.

'I got a supply in when Daddy went to Pakistan in the summer,' she said firmly. 'And that moron sprayed it in his eyes. You just need stand behind Weasley and spray over his head, towards his face. He'll inhale it, and then you can ask him whatever you want.' She turned to Blaise, tossing him a canister. 'You can get Granger in Arithmancy.'

'Fine,' he replied dryly. Pansy glanced around the room.

'Someone's got to get Potter,' she grumbled. 'I want that penndragonne as soon as possible.'

'Forget it,' Blaise drawled. 'Dumbledore's golden boy? You so much as touch a hair on his mutilated head and you'll be getting an enema from an angry auror. We're lucky we weren't in the castle when we abducted him off the breeder.' Blaise frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 'And if we hadn't of hi-tailed it back to the castle so quickly afterwards, I think that auror who was trailing us would have found some interesting crevice for his wand.'

'You're so pessimistic, Blaise,' Pansy chided, leaning on a table, looking up through the glass to the swaying kelp of the lake. 'Besides, you know you'd love it.'

'Shut up, insolent wench!' A bell went off somewhere distant.

'Class,' Theodore noted. 'I've got a free third period.'

'Me too,' Pansy said, nodding to some minions as they left. 'Blaise?'

'Arithmancy.'

'Well, get Granger then. We'll do a proper meeting at lunch. And stop moping Blaise, for goodness sake!'

'So help me woman, I will hex you…'

Transfiguration was second period. Harry was nervous. McGonnagal had not forgotten the tea incident of the previous week, and she had a glint in her eyes that told Harry she was not going to be forgiving. Most people in the class had brought their pet along- Hermione had Crookshanks and Ron was containing pig with a cardboard box that kept scuttling across the table- and the rest had been presented with puppies or grass snakes or goldfish. Silver was yawning in front of Harry- Harry had stayed up late the night before chatting to Ryan. The enigmatic new housemate had so much to say. Harry really didn't see why he was getting under Ron's skin so badly- he was such a kind person. He was strange in that he wasn't like the rest of Harry's dorm-mates- he was refined and quiet and oddly wise, but at the same time, he was a great person. He could laugh at the same things and keep up with conversation. He kept his own interests to himself, but got involved with everyone else's. He was very likable. Silver hated him. Silver had refused to go to sleep until Harry had drawn the curtains for the night and lain down himself. The little dragon had sat, glaring at Ryan, but ducking out of sight whenever he was spotted. Ryan thought it was cute. Harry thought Silver was just being silly. And Silver… well he didn't know what he thought, but he knew he didn't like Ryan one bit.

'Today,' Professor McGonnagal boomed. 'We are going to study two opposite Spells, which have been employed by Wizards throughout the centuries in their defence, or indeed for duelling. I should hope that you will use these spells for defence purposes. In these times the frivolity and risk caused by duelling is not an acceptable use of your time.' Harry winced. McGonnagal sounded sterner than usual today. He'd heard a rumour that Lucius Malfoy was coming to Hogwarts in the next few days. Maybe the idea of having a convicted Death Eater roaming her school was a little too much for her.

'The Spells you will be learning, as I have mentioned, are opposites. They develop the target to the end of its evolutionary spiral, as far it can go, and the other will return it to its original form.' Hermione's hand shot up. 'Finite Incantatem won't work in this particular case because of the complex level of cell and DNA generation or degeneration occurs.' Hermione put her hand back down. 'You can also use the latter spell, the degenerative one, to degenerate a powerful creature into a less complexly evolved one.' She cleared her throat. 'I will demonstrate on this marmoset.' The monkey was sitting on the floor of the class room, chewing cheerily on a bowl of pine nuts. 'Everyone get to a place where they can see, but stay back beyond the first row of desks, please.' The students at the back moved forwards, kneeling up on desks or standing out to the sides. The Marmoset seemed undeterred by all this movement. Harry pondered what McGonnagal might have put in those pine nuts with a wry smile. He picked Silver up off the desk, who was soft and warm and limp where he had been dozing. He curled into Harry's hands affectionately, lashing his long tail around Harry's wrist. Professor McGonngal raised her wand.

'Listen carefully,' she said firmly. 'Marmoset Evolusifors!' The Marmoset froze up, before arching back onto its hind legs and screaming. Its fur seemed to extend, golden brown swirling in a huge bubble, slowly blackening as the scream became deeper and deeper. The swirling vanished in a flash of light and gasps went up from the room as the huge silver back gorilla roared a challenge, beating thick fists upon its dark chest.

'And now,' Professor McGonnagal cut through the disruption. 'Gorilla Retrodecendius!' The Gorilla pinched its eyes shut, reeling backwards into that swirling ball of light, before it swirled back to golden brown and the Marmoset reappeared, blinked bemusedly, cheeping. The class applauded, clearly impressed. Silver, however, was not. And Harry had lost all feeling in his fingers.

'Silver, let go,' he grumbled, trying to dislodge the pricking claws. Silver had no intention of letting go. He was chirruping and flicking his wings and lashing his head and generally making a scene. It was hard for Harry to tell if he was frightened, scared, excited or what. He was just… loud. Professor MCGonnagal ushered the students back to their seats.

'The Marmoset became a Gorilla. I'm sure that was apparent. Marmosets are Monkeys. Their evolutionary path has diverted from apes such as Chimpanzees or Orang-utans. The Evolusifors spell has bridged this gap somewhat, and the monkey evolved into a Gorilla.' She frowned. Hermione was taking fervent notes. 'Had I of used a more evolved ape, for example a chimpanzee, we would have seen a human sitting on the floor here, or at least something very similar.' She frowned. 'However, since naked humans are really not appropriate in the class room, I won't be showing you that today.' There were a few mumbled complaints. Professor McGonnagal ignored them irritably.

'You all have your subjects. You will practise the Evolusifors spell first. Off you go.'

The students hadn't so much as raised their wands when a huge booming voice echoed through the school.

'All Students will return immediately to their dormitories. They will be escorted by their head of years. Slytherins to meet in the entrance hall, Hufflepuffs in the Great Hall, Ravenclaw in the third floor corridor and Gryffindors on the 7th floor in the ante chamber to their common room. All Heads of House to make their way to the designated area for registration. All students are then to proceed to their dormitories immediately. No student may stay in their Common Room or elsewhere. All this is to be completed with utmost haste.'

'Was that Dumbledore?' Susan Bones asked Hermione quietly.

'No,' Ron replied. 'That's a Ministry Official.'

They looked at one another and frowned. Silver nuzzled into Harry's neck, trembling.

Something big was happening.

Hermione bade Blaise a swift goodbye when they reached the stairs that split, leading them up into the castle or down towards the dungeons. Pansy, who met Blaise there, flashed Harry a meaningful look, but since Harry had little knowledge of what went on in a girl's head, let alone a Slytherin girl's head (they were a slightly different breed), he ignored her, flatly, and hurried up to the tower with the rest of his dorm mates.

Ryan had been spending his free period down in the dungeons with a tutor (in the form of Professor Trelawny). Moments prior to the Ministry Alarm, he had complained of a fever and had told his teacher he was heading off to the Hospital Wing. Mumbling about 'a destiny most clouded', Professor Trelawny had made her way back to the haven of her tower, and Ryan had snuck round the corner. He knew what was coming. He frowned as he prowled the corridors in the bowels of the building. He hated to admit it, but he was nervous. He had no reason to be nervous- he was the one in control! And that moron wasn't going to find anything anyway. Draco-The-Penndragonne was all cosied up in the locked sixth year dormitory of Gryffindor House. And a convicted Death Eater had a snowflakes chance in hell of getting in there. Ryan snorted, his hair and skin paling Orion's natural colouration out of nerves. He'd have better luck trying to infiltrate The Department of Mysteries right now than getting to his precious brat. Orion smirked to himself at the irony.

In a very few minutes, when the doors to the castle banged open and the screech of Chimeras in the cold echoed through the entrance hall, he had precious little to smirk about.

Silver had fallen into an uneasy sleep in Harry's arms, and kept fidgeting unhappily as if he was dreaming of something somewhat troublesome. Harry cradled him loving, stroking a hand over soft feathers and warm velvet skin, feeling the soft steady heartbeat pulsing against his fingers.

'Harry, wipe that goofy smile off your face,' Seamus demanded. 'Some of us are trying to worry here.'

'Sorry,' Harry mumbled, moving the window alcove. As a younger boy he had been able to curl up in it. Now he could barely perch. He peered out of the window, over the grounds. It was a cold wintry day. There was no snow, but in the shadow of trees and buildings the night frost had failed the melt, leaving wintry traces of Jack Frost's midnight mischief. There were thin sheets of ice glimmering over the lake. Harry sighed heavily. Yes, they were locked in their dormitories. Yes, the ministry was here. Yes, it was quite likely that something bad was happening, but he felt… well, pretty damn content. A tiny precious life was bundled against him, clinging for support and warmth and love, and he was only to happy to give. Now was not the time to be worrying about Voldemort. Let that wait until the next vision, the next burning headache, the next Daily Prophet report. Let it all wait. Harry raised the dozing Silver to his face, gazing into those frosted pools of sparkling light. He smiled as Silver blinked at him, before yawning widely. With a thrumming purr, Silver extended his neck, pressing his snout gently against the dip in Harry's bottom lip, before turning his head, nuzzling and licking at the skin briefly. In seconds he was coiling back down into the warm luxury of sleep. Harry turned his head to look back out of the window, letting the coil of mercury skin pool into his lap, broomstick calloused fingers playing gently with slim white feathers. Let the world wait.

'Lucius is here. That's got to be it.'

'He'll be looking for Draco,' Blaise noted as they sat in the main common room on the sofas nearest the green fireplace. Professor Snape was sitting anxiously by the door. He had no intention of sending them to their dormitories.

'Of course he will be,' Pansy snapped, pacing. 'But he won't find him.' She shook her head. 'He can't. Draco's locked up in that bloody tower with Potter, and there's no way he's getting in there.'

'Besides,' Blaise drawled. 'They're probably snuggling. And no one needs to see that.'

'Blaise,' Pansy growled. 'As tolerant as I usually am, now is neither the time nor the place for your homoerotic fantasies.' Blaise choked. 'So kindly take them and your right hand off somewhere private or shut up and help me think.' Blaise said nothing for a while.

'Think about what?' he ground out. Pansy gave him an exasperated glare. Theodore was chewing the leg off his chocolate frog nervously.

'We're Draco's best friends,' Pansy hissed. 'He's going to be down here any minute to grill us.' Blaise cocked an eyebrow. 'Just you wait! He will! And what have we got to say?'

'That his son's upstairs cuddling with Harry Potter and making kissy faces with his mudblood chums?'

'Basically, yes.'

'Draco didn't want to go and see his dad,' Theodore noted. 'He kept saying that he wasn't ready. That his dad would get angry. That he didn't want to go.' Pansy frowned, a pang in her chest.

'Draco told me… before all of this… that he wanted to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. That this year he didn't want to go home.' She shook her head, sitting on the arm of Theodore's chair. 'he wouldn't tell me why, but he looked really shaken up about it.' She narrowed her eyes. 'I don't think Lucius has been hurting Draco. I mean, for Christ's sake, he's his father. No matter what, he does love him.' She bit a fingernail nervously, bouncing a knee. 'But Lucius has always pushed Draco-'

'Don't we know it,' Blaise groaned.

'- and maybe Draco felt too pressured by it. Maybe he was asking for something terrible.' Blaise frowned, sincere.

'Like what?'

'Like getting his mark,' Pansy mused. 'Though I doubt that. Maybe to perfect his Killing Curse or something like that.' Blaise paled a little.

'Stupid arsehole,' he growled bitterly.

'And then there's the fact he's turned into that lizard,' Theodore hissed, eyeing Snape, who was pacing by the door.

'Yeah…' Pansy mused. 'I had no idea Draco was trying to become an Animagi.' Blaise avoided her look and she glared but said nothing. 'Either way… he's done it.'

'He's done a shoddy job of it,' Blaise mumbled. Pansy snarled.

'And he seems to be stuck. And he's not acting like…' she fumbled for the words. 'like himself. He's acting like… a penndragonne.' Blaise had a hand over the lower half of his face, and was glaring out across the room. Theodore, who had only recently been brought in on the recent developments, was watching Pansy.

'So what do we tell Lucius?' he asked innocently.

'Exactly what he wants to hear,' came the cool, calm reply. Pansy started, standing up and turning in a flash. Blaise was on his feet too. Theodore was frozen in his chair.

'You really shouldn't be in here,' Snape muttered weakly. Lucius shot him an icy look.

'Get a backbone, Severus,' he snarled. To his right stood a servant, dressed in brown formal robes which added to his pale, gaunt look. In his left hand was a near trembling boy in Gryffindor uniform, looking murderous. Snape walked towards Lucius, and the pair sized each other up.

'You really think he's down here?' Snape asked coolly.

'No,' Lucius responded hotly, nostrils flaring. 'But you are standing between me and the informants who are going to lead me to him.' He narrowed eyes that were a mere sliver of steel around a huge black pupil. 'Get out of the way. Now.' Snape curled his lip, but did not move. Without prompting, the servant boy in brown stepped forwards, placing a hand on Snape's arm. Snape tensed as if he'd been struck.

'I'm going to escort you to another room,' the servant said evenly. 'You're going to

comply, or I am going to use force.' Snape stared at the boy, before shooting Lucius a dirty look, and allowed himself to be led, head down, to another doorway. The servant pushed him inside, before gracefully shutting the door. He returned simply to Lucius' side, obedient.

'Thank you, Aquilla,' Lucius said softly. Aquilla nodded. Lucius eyed the three Slytherin children, before shoving Ryan to the floor. He yelped in a hurt sort of fashion, before hissing at Lucius, bearing his teeth. Lucius trod down hard on his hand, twisting his boot and watched without emotion as Ryan squirmed, screaming, before finally relinquishing his false form, fire balls exploding from his hands and striking portraits off the wall.

'Jesus on broomstick,' Theodore hissed. 'That kid was in my Divination class, all this time.' He shook his head, bewildered. 'I didn't notice a thing.'

'Sit down,' Lucius commanded. 'All of you.' Pansy and Blaise did not move, glaring. In a rush of nothing, Aquilla was behind them. He placed a hand on either of their shoulders. Pansy whimpered.

"You will sit,' he said calmly. With no further encouragement, they complied. Aquilla walked behind the sofas and stood in the shadows, watching coolly. Lucius stepped off of Orion, who hissed nastily, before recoiling when Lucius inclined his head towards the creature.

'Get up,' he commanded, before walking towards the Slytherin students. He examined his cane along the length of his nose.

'You know why I'm here,' he said calmly. 'I have come for my son.'

'We don't know where he is,' Pansy spat. Out of nowhere, Aquilla clutched her wrist. She writhed in pain. Lucius nodded, and the pale hand let go. Pansy cradled her arm, scowling.

'You all have information that will be crucial to my investigation,' Lucius informed them, before piercing Blaise with his gaze. He opened his mouth to speak, when Orion got up behind him, cursing in some foreign language. Lucius raised his wand, and with a murmured spell Orion was pinned to the wall, raised from the floor, eyes flashing angrily, snarling like a wild beast.

'You'll have to excuse me, children,' he said gently. 'Aquilla, keep an eye on them.'

'Of course,' Aquilla responded curtly. Lucius crossed the room to Orion, checking his wristband. Good. It wasn't all gone.

'Report, Orion.' Orion wheezed a little, before his face melted into a coy, ghostly smile.

'I thought Aquilla would have given you my report already,' he eased. 'I hope he hasn't been slacking in his duties?' Lucius struck him across the face.

'He's had a spy here,' Theo mumbled. Blaise frowned.

'A spy, who in an odd turn of coincidence, is the sole survivor of the Durmstrang attack.' They all exchanged meaningful looks. Aquilla watched them, sighing quietly. Feh. They weren't trying to run off. Unless Lucius specifically told him to shut them up, he was going to examine the exquisite ceiling carvings.

'You expect me to believe that tripe?' Lucius snarled. 'Oh, I think the boy might be in the castle,' he sneered, mocking the creature pinned to the wall. 'I've established myself… contrived foolery!' Lucius struck Orion again, who snarled in an odd bitonal voice, trying to bite Lucius' hand.

'You wouldn't be here unless you knew the boy was here,' Lucius stated coolly. 'Where in the castle is he?' Orion stayed silent, smirking, a smudge of blood at the corner of his mouth. Infuriated, Lucius struck at him again, before sweeping back over to the Slytherins.

'When did you last see him?' Lucius fired at Pansy.

'B-before the attack,' Pansy responded. 'I've been at St Mungos.'

'You, Zabini,' he turned instantly to Blaise. 'Had he completed his training?'

'No,' Blaise replied calmly. 'He'd managed to turn his skin to scales, but that was about it. His training sort of went on hiatus, because-'

'You, Nott!' Lucius had already turned away. 'How was he before he vanished?' Theodore swallowed.

'Stressed,' he said softly. 'H-he broke his mirror.' He swallowed. 'He said he didn't want to-'

'Now, you see?' Lucius called triumphantly across the room to Orion, who cocked his lowered head arrogantly, eyes flashing. Blaise's head swam and he staggered a little.

'I ask questions, and I get answers. Not some pathetic excuses for your own incompetence.' Orion glared. Lucius raised a pair of green lenses to cover his eyes as the Slytherins sweltered in the angry heat. 'Where do you think he is?' Orion remained silent for a moment.

'He was upset,' he said softly. 'He didn't want to go back to the Manor.' Orion locked eyes with his master. 'He was afraid you'd be angry with his lack of progress.' He looked up at the ceiling. 'If you were upset, under achieving, unbalanced and,' he smirked. 'Slytherin, where would you go?' Lucius narrowed his eyes.

'Enlighten me,' he hissed. Orion sighed still looking up at the ceiling. Aquilla could see the cogs ticking in his quick mind. Suddenly, Orion's face relaxed from it's moment of desperate thought and he lowered his head, smiling nastily. Aquilla mentally groaned. Whatever story he'd manage to piece together was going to be good.

'A little bird told me about a diary,' he mused, watching as Lucius stiffened. 'She told me all about a wonderful man named Tom Riddle, and how he had taken her on a magical adventure into a chamber reserved for those worthy of his blood.' Sharp teeth glinted in the half-light. 'A little chamber, hidden away, lost in myth and legend since the death of its creator.' Lucius scoffed.

'You can't possibly be suggesting-'

'That Draco found a way into the Chamber of Secrets?' Orion cooed airily, a smile playing ghostly games across his blanched lips. 'Why not?' Lucius growled, pacing.

'You, boy.' Orion looked at Theodore, who broke out into a sweat, flushing.

'Yeah?' he mumbled in response.

'Draco was re-reading Hogwarts: A History, was he not?'

'Umm, yeah…' Theodore mumbled. A voice in his head was telling him to agree.

'I crept into his chambers for a look around,' Orion confirmed. 'The boy had a marker on the Slytherin chapters. In his madness, he was looking inside himself for an answer to his weakness. He decided that he was failing his lineage.' Lucius stared at Orion, watching waiting. Finally, he turned away.

'Go on,' he muttered. Orion, behind Lucius' back, grinned. Aquilla shook his head and looked back at the ceiling.

'Draco mastered Imperius last summer,' Orion hissed. 'He used to practise on me, remember?'

'Yes,' Lucius noted. 'I recall your complaints about it. Go on.'

'All you need to get into the Chamber of Secrets is to know the entrance and to speak Parseltongue,' Orion noted.

'Which Draco does not,' Lucius noted. Orion ploughed on.

'But there is one in this school,' Orion's voice with slightly higher, more persuasive.

'And Draco is proficient with Imperius.'

'Harry Potter can resist Imperius,' a faint Pansy hissed just about a breath to Blaise, who was panting a little, face flushed.

'Yeah,' Blaise mumbled. 'But Lucy-poos doesn't know that,' he smirked. 'And that… thing is damn good at bullshitting.'

'What are you suggesting?' Lucius snarled, wand at Orion's throat. Orion laughed a little.

'I'm suggesting, Master,' he hissed the word, somewhere between lovingly and playfully, 'that your son took control of Harry Potter, forced him to lead him to the Chamber of Secrets, open the door and shut it behind him again, and then forget it ever happened.' Lucius opened his mouth. 'And since that day has been lurking down there in the filth and rotting Basilisk having a merry time living off rats.' Orion shrugged. 'Or not, as the case may be. I can't pretend to understand the mind and ways of the psychopath.' Aquilla forced himself not to snort indignantly. Lucius turned away, storming to the end of the room, leaning against the wall. Orion's gaze moved, and Blaise's knees gave out, and Pansy collapsed into her chair.

'This is your… theory, is it?' Lucius asked. Orion smiled, arching his head back.

'Yes,' he said softly. 'But I haven't followed it up.' He purred. 'I thought you'd prefer to do that yourself. After all, it is your brat-' he broke off, crying out in pain as Lucius uttered a spell which crushed him harder against the wall.

'Dumbledore will never let me go down there…' Lucius mumbled. Aquilla rolled his eyes. Orion was right. Malfoys were idiots. Lucius turned to Orion. 'It's better if you lay low whilst you're here… have your spies do your dirty work for you. I can't have you charming Dumbledore for me…' He was worrying his lower lip. Orion winked at Aquilla, who frowned. Lucius raked a hand through his hair.

'Fine. We will have to look into it. Come, Aquilla.'

'Of course, sir,' Aquilla acquiesced. Lucius stalked to the door, before raising his wand with a violent flick. Orion crashed to the floor. Blaise and Pansy gasped in relief. There was a slap of boot leather on the stone floor and a muffled yelp as Orion was dragged to his feet.

'Come on,' Aquilla grumbled, shoving a robes bag into Orion's arms and shoving him after Lucius. The portrait slammed shut. Snape emerged sheepishly from his room. He looked at his students, before rushing off in disgrace, to boil something noxious to take out his anger upon.

The students were excused from lessons until Lunch, and since Professor Willotree had cancelled Myth studies after lunch since she was going unicorn spotting with Professor Grubbly Plank, he had the rest of the day free. He decided to plough ahead with the next chapter of his Medimagic textbook (Bruises, Bruising and General Pain: How to alleviate, remove, and cover up), but first to take a bath. He imagined prolonged submergence of his scratched hand would do wonders for the tingly itching Silver's tiny claws had caused. So, after a hearty lunch of chicken pie, cheese toasties and ginger sponge (Silver had turned his nose up entirely and had picked at Harry's salad garnish dejectedly before decadently lapping at some cream Ginny had presented to him on a teaspoon), Harry scooped up his wash kit and a somewhat sticky ball of feathers and velvet (Neville, in a large gesture, had knocked Silver flying into a half empty bowl of ginger sauce. Granted, said tiny dragon had not been impressed, and Neville was currently, as far as Harry knew, still in the hospital wing having the horizontal gashes on his face sutured) and had headed for the Prefect's bathroom. At this time of day, it would be empty. He'd been caught in there before, but no one paid him any mind. He imagined if that git Malfoy found him in there, all kinds of hell would have to be paid. Mainly to the Malfoy account, of course, but probably in copious quantities of housepoints as well. However that wasn't really a problem at the moment, due to his 'absence', and Harry was more concerned with cleaning the sticky spicy smelling goop out of the very frustrated animal's feathers than losing a few house points Hermione could easily pick back up. He was quite sure gunked up wings weren't healthy in anything with feathers, avian or otherwise.

'Riiiiiiiiiiiieeeep!' Silver whined, coiling and lashing like a particularly dextrous viper. Harry was very awkwardly stripping off his clothes whilst holding the creature at arm's length. He managed the wrestle off his tie and began unbuttoning his shirt.

'Mnnnnnnrrrrrrrrriiiiiiioooaaaaaaaw!' Silver bawled, flapping congealed wings with a melancholy yowl. Harry began shrugging his shirt off his shoulders.

'Knock it off!' he grumbled. 'I'll wash you in a minute, you impatient-'

'Ssssssssssssssssscccaaaaaa!' Silver snapped, biting down hard on Harry's hand. Snarling in pain and frustration, Harry bundled the dragon up in his shirt and plonked him on the floor. As he shoved off his trousers, there was stillness. As he hopped awkwardly , pulling off his socks, the little bundle began to scuttle blindly, mewing miserably.

'Yes, yes...' Harry grumbled as the little white bundle scurried about, bumping into his legs before turning a few circles. He bundled his clothes up in a pile and pushed off his boxers, flinging them on top. He collected Silver up, a few feet poking out from the white cloth, before walking around the bath, turning on taps he knew he liked. He smirked bashfully as he sat on the steps, cautiously unwrapping the bundle in his lap. A sprucey piney smell came from one of the taps, from another a refreshing almost natural tang, and from a third, think creamy vanilla bubbles. Since Malfoy manor, he had realised that he liked these scents. The sweetness of the vanilla, the freshness of the pine and neutral zing... they were the scents he had found in Malfoy's en suite bathroom at Malfoy Manor. Absent mindedly, Harry wondered if Malfoy used those scents at school; if when it wasn't drenched in blood and mess and smashed potions his room smelt like that. If he smelt like that.

'Myo?' Silver crowed, shoving Harry's hands out of the way and plunging headlong into the water of the pool. Harry tossed his shirt aside, rolling his eyes and stood up, walking down the steps and into the water, covering his dignity when the mermaid giggled at him, winking. Silver resurfaced in a spray of bubbles, screaming and caterwauling and generally making a nusiance of himself. Harry settled into the deep pool and waded over, collecting the creature up and taking him back towards the step. Silver was chattering away dolefully, telling Harry an intricate story of his sorrowful existence. However, Dragons, of any size, do not speak Parseltongue, or English, so this was wasted on Harry, whom sat on the second to bottom step and began scrubbing Silver's wings with a brush. Silver curved into the touch, snapping and chirping only when Harry's strokes became too rough. It was a companionable silence between the two. Harry almost chuckled when, as he completed ridding the now drenched feathers of sticky golden goop, Silver let out a quiet sorrowful mumble. Harry laid down his scrubbing brush, picking up his flannel to begin scrubbing his torso. His eyes wandered, and only drifted back to Silver by accident. He did laugh gently this time. The little Dragon, gently fanning his sodden wing, had turned in Harry's lap, and was surreptitiously sitting up on his hind quarters, clawing at the air towards Harry's hands. Harry smirked, and dropped the flannel over Silver's head. Squawking, the creature ran backwards, Harry catching him around the middle before he staggered off Harry's knees and into the water, and lifting him up. The flannel, after a lot of hissing and yowling and thrashing off his head, slipped off, and Silver struck, biting down on Harry's chin toothlessly. Harry flinched a little, but there was no pain.

'Now, now,' Harry said softly, lifting Silver away and staring him in the eye. 'That's not very nice now, is it?' Silver seemed to have a lot to say on that particular subject, and did not stop snapping and chattering until Harry began running the soft cloth over his back. Silver melted, eyes drifting gently shut as his body trembled with a contented purr. Harry used a finger to scratch the top of his tiny tapered head.

'Good boy,' he whispered, running the finger down Silver's back.

And that was when he found them. The patterns that had been burned by fiery fingertips under Silver's skin.

If you are reading on then the following scene had to be mostly cut out because don't like smut. You can find this scene (which is full of evil, bad, nasty mean, bloody filth (don't say I didn't warn you)) at my Adult Fan Fiction Account, which is Tashasaphi. http/ This scene (well, parts of it) will help with later plot devices, so I do suggest reading it. However, if you can't be arsed, that's fine too. OK. Oh, and AFF readers, the following scene is evil and horrible and will give you nightmares. You have been duly warned

A hollow cry of twisted agony echoed around the dripping, festering dungeon, the rabid, wild beasts in the cages around the place roaring and moaning and leaning against their cold iron confines towards the delicious sound of pain. Whatever vaguely sharp implement had been rammed in above his waist was ripped roughly out, and Orion tensed and screamed, his thick red blood, hissing with heat, splattered across the cold floor. Limply he fell back against his bonds, panting, soft whimpers mumbling their way out under his breath.

Dear god, was Lucius angry?

Lucius claimed he did not enjoy torturing anyone. Not even Muggles or Half Blood scum. He claimed it upset him, made it difficult for him to sleep. It was only something his was prescribed to do by his 'master'.

But he was damn good at it. Orion had known that long before he was dragged down here to suffer an afternoon of 'illumination'.

When Orion, aged twelve, tender, young and ferociously wild had been brought by his captor to Malfoy Manor, he had, to begin with, lived in these fetid pits the Malfoys called dungeons. At that time, despite it being 'peacetime' overhead, a time before Voldemort's resurrection, even before his reappearance in the Chamber of Secrets or inside Professor Quirrell, Lucius's dark dealings had not been entirely dormant. Certainly Orion hadn't been acquired through the usual means. Aquilla hadn't been created through the more open channels. Lucius, like Malfoy's far down his line, still kept up a healthy, profitable trade in dark items, often dangerous ones. And of course, he still bred those infernal Chimeras, and they weren't exactly sunshine and daisies, as much as some of them pretended to be. In his time scraping out an existence in the cold, muggy cells, Orion had watched with awe Lucius' torture techniques. Considering his expertise he didn't have all that many tools. It was his proficiency and variety of techniques with the ones he did have that made him so awe inspiring to Orion. It was this awe, amongst factors such as the luxurious lifestyle and Lucius' comparative power and wealth that had kept fickle Orion completely loyal until recently. Lucius could take a man, a strong man, with good powerful morals and a high threshold, and over a period of time, sometimes minutes, sometimes days, the prisoner would become a pliant wreck, weak, wracked with misery and ongoing pain and sleepless agonies. Lucius often used mind altering spells and charms and curses. Sometimes he'd whisper awful things. Sometimes he's demonstrate to his victim exactly what he was about to do on an animal or carcass. Everything was precise and methodical and eerily efficient. And Aquilla was always allowed to watch.

Today was a little different.

Usually, especially when he was angry with Orion, Lucius would rant. He could rant and rave all day, hardly repeating a single notion. He could go on and on and on, sometimes revealing things he shouldn't, sometimes not a thing. But today, he was silent as the grave. There was no demonstration. There was no mind altering. Today he gave Orion a lesson in pain. A lesson he would not be allowed to forget.

And Aquilla, as always, was watching.

Some vicious strap cut violent lines across Orion's pale skin, eliciting yelps and gasps and bitten moans of pain. Orion's toes curled, his whole body stiffening with every blow. Orion did like pain. It was alarming how much he liked pain. But he didn't like blood. Well, not his own anyway. And this pain… was not the sort of pain he enjoyed, anyway. He was loathe to admit it, but he was frightened. Terrified in fact. His eyes were wide, trying to find his aggressor, but failing, his chest rising and falling in desperate gasps. Ribbons of his robes hung from his frame like torn wings, despite his lacking the necessary angelic appeal. And all the while he was seemingly alone with his pain, glinting dark eyes surveyed him from the shadows, cold, hateful and hungry.

What made this worse was the tiniest fragment of decency Orion had was telling him that he deserved Aquilla's loathing, after what he had done to the young man up to this point. There were some hurts that could not be with quick bouts of rambunctious, experimental sex.

And despite its usual usefulness, the fact that this was Orion's forte was not going to get him out of this situation.

Orion let out a sob, trembling with fatigue against his bonds. He pinched his eyes back to bite back tears he would not allow himself to shed. He did not cry. It was not something he permitted himself to do.

'P…' he found himself mumbling. The soft footsteps behind him paused. Orion hung his head.

'Please ssstop…' he managed around lengthened teeth. 'I… I have been…' The steps began again and Orion paused, worrying his already bloodied lip. A hand locked into his hair and wrenched his head backwards.

'Don't stop on my account,' Lucius snarled over his face, iron grey around a dilated pool of blackness scouring a path across the tormented yet beautiful face. Orion whined.

'I shan't disobey you again,' he mumbled meekly. 'I… shall just do whatever you tell me. I… have been… unappreciative of hat you've given me.' Lucius held Orion there for some time, breathing softly against Orion's blanched, clammy skin. Seeing that he couldn't raise a spark from the watery hazel eyes, Lucius released his head, shoving Orion forwards against his straps that bound him to the ceiling.

'Aquilla,' Lucius commanded, and Orion whimpered. He jolted meekly when the dark servant appeared suddenly before him. A hunger he usually suppressed burned deep in his dark eyes. Behind him, Lucius was ripping off the shreds of Orion's robes.

'Oh, Orion,' Lucius sighed heavily. 'My life is troublesome enough without you causing trouble for me.' He clicked his tongue next to Orion's ear. 'First Evelyn, next that ridiculous stunt at Durmstrang, then this fuss with Draco.' Lucius leant his chin on a tormented shoulder. 'Sometimes I wonder what goes through your mind when you seek to hurt me like this.' He scoffed. 'Not a lot, I expect. What does a Siren think of beyond its own carnal and primal needs, after all? I had been told that the Veela portion of your blood would stabilise you a little. Perhaps this is just a little puberty waver.' Lucius pressed a soft kiss to the satin of Orion's throat. 'What do you think?'

'Per… Perhaps.'

'Either way,' Lucius mumbled against the skin. 'I have to teach you that it can't be tolerated. You are one of my dependents, Orion. How shall I show you off to high society if you're going to insist on eating them?' He sighed dolefully. 'Can't you just be satisfied with the sex and a few muggles to chew on from time to time? Once this restriction is lifted I'll be more than happy to cater to those needs.'

'Mnn…' Orion mumbled non-commitantly. Now he wasn't in pain anymore, he felt the desire to separate the head of something from its body. Words were cheap. Humans were foolish. He was quite happy to use these facts to his advantage. And if his advantage would be getting out of these bonds, he'd be very happy to use these facts. Lucius was holding his smaller frame from behind now. Orion could feel the older man's arousal pressing softly against the back of his thigh. He frowned a little. As soon as the expression had formed on his face, his feature softly contorted into gasping, stammering pain. Aquilla, on his knees before the near naked Orion, was biting gently into the quivering silk skin of Orion's inner thigh. Of course, when someone has needle-point teeth and a voracious blood fuelled hunger, a gentle bite is still rather powerful. Little beads of blood rolled temptingly from Aquilla's bite, before being swept up by his tongue, pleased, animal growls rumbling shocks of almost pleasure to Orion's core.

'This is still punishment, Orion,' Lucius warned as Orion's head fell back a little, resting against his shoulder, chest hitching with fearful tiny gulps of air. 'Don't think I've forgotten.'

'Of… of course not,' Orion managed, squeaking a little as Aquilla bit harder. 'Master.'

'Good boy,' Lucius muttered, seemingly placated. Fingers ghosted along the slight curve of his hips, but they were like the footsteps of a spider, waiting for the right moment to bite down with teeth, venom filled. Orion whimpered, before crying out when Aquilla snarled, shaking his head a little, tearing more skin. Orion looked upwards, whimpering, tears beading unshed in his eyelashes. Lucius was doing something, but Orion already knew what. Lucius was going to take him, as if to further drill into him his lowliness as a kept beast, and Orion, thanks to the contraption, would receive no release, if any pleasure at all. Aquilla leant further into his bite, and Orion's voice twisted in panic.

'For god's sake, call him off!' He screamed, lashing and writhing, kicking Aquilla away. The halfblood fell black, a little stunned, lips stained. Orion trembled, breaths hitching, eyes flashing gold and fingers hooking into claws in challenge, thigh twitching as tiny trickles of blood fell from the broken skin.

Crack.

Orion roared, bitonal, before falling back into his meekest form, choking and wheezing in a hurt sort of way, new lash marks across his back sending flooding signals to his brain.

'Do as you will, Aquilla,' Lucius commanded coolly, running his fingers along the burning flesh, Orion hissed. Aquilla drew closer, softly clutching Orion's knee. Orion's eyes widened, and he writhed.

'He's killing me!' He protested. Lucius dug his fingers in, and Orion cried out.

'You try and avoid him one more time, and I'll have him drain you,' Lucius hissed into his ear. 'Do I make myself clear?' Orion didn't say anything. He had pinched his eyes shut, his chest hitching horribly, nostrils puffing out his breath in shallow gasps. Aquilla pushed Orion's knees apart, eyeing him with mixed emotions as he bit into the inside of his right knee. Orion's eyes shot open with a choked sob. As Lucius moved behind him, knocking his legs apart and preparing himself, Aquilla looked gently up, to see Orion looking down. Orion was nothing if not manipulative, self worshipping scum, who did nothing if it did not benefit him in some way. He was greedy, heartless and full of distain. But underneath it all, Aquilla could see that this stemmed from his abandonment as a child- he now sought a safe, stable home to live in, plenty to eat, and a future he could trust in. As perfect as he thought he was, he, like all things mortal, feared death. And the fear that burned in Orion's eyes, begging Aquilla, as his 'friend', to stop, was nearly intoxicating. Aquilla sighed into the wound he had created, ignoring the jolt he caused to Orion's leg. He averted his eyes, feeling Orion tense, trying to call him back to his eyes and failing.

'Aquilla,' Lucius said softly. 'How is he?' Aquilla growled.

'How do you mean, sir,' he asked, lips barely away from the bruised skin. Lucius smiled over Orion's shoulder.

'His flavour,' Lucius asked softly. 'A human palette is not for tasting the subtle taste of blood, I'm afraid.' He dug a thin blade just into the skin of Orion's shoulder. Orion jolted, but didn't dare try to writhe away. Lucius licked up the little bead of blood that appeared. Aquilla did his utmost to not find this arousing to his inner beast.

'How would you say he tastes today?' Lucius asked gently, leaning heavily against Orion. Aquilla looked up at Orion's face, which was half hidden by his ruffled, colourless hair. His mouth, white pale, was trembling with a bitten sob.

'Decadent,' Aquilla said calmly, turning his face back into the bite, closing his jaws hard and listening distantly to Orion's jarring cry of terror. Aquilla reminded himself that Orion deserved this, and got on with his job.

'That sounds about right,' Lucius said softly. And suddenly, Orion was arching and screaming, toes curling, eyes wide in agony. He fell back, hissing. Aquilla, who had stopped biting for a second, frowned. Blood was falling, trickling gently down the curve of Orion's rear, and along the crease at the top of Orion's spread thigh.

Orion was relatively young, and relatively tight. Lucius usually gave him time to adjust, a stretch before he ploughed in, and the kindness of lubricant. Not today. Orion choked, tears falling now, whimpering and whining. He was not aroused at all. Aquilla got the feeling that if he did get at all hard during this, it would be forced rather than personal enjoyment.

And as much as, due to the infection Orion had not yet removed, this pained Aquilla, watching that white, unbitten flesh tremble, stark against the wasted trickles of gore rolling gently along it was more than he could bear.

Orion's movement was restricted, being as he was being held firm by chains and two men, and he felt every movement of Lucius inside of him as he began thrusting, hard, deep, but painfully slowly, missing his prostate almost entirely. Aquilla's fingers bit into his thigh as sharp teeth pierced the paper thin skin at the top of his leg. It didn't hurt like the deep muscle bites further down his leg, but instead there was a fierce acidic sting. As Lucius took him mercilessly, blood from his entrance foaming a little, in pity, Aquilla began gently pulling on him, bringing him to half hardness. At least, if nothing else, it was distracting. Orion glared up at the ceiling, body trembling from fatigue, up through the rusted grate that bathed his spot with sunlight. Rusty water splattered onto his cheek as Lucius' pace increased. A sudden stabbing, new pain in his groin caught his attention. Aquilla, whose eyes were wild, animal, had taken him into his mouth, and whilst seeming to service him, had bitten into the blood engorged organ. A liquid growl reverberated through him.

'You sick fuc- ah!' Orion yelped as Aquilla bit again. Lucius pushed suddenly deeper, and Orion keened.

'Be quiet,' Lucius snarled. And then there was only the noise of flesh on flesh, Orion's stunted whimpers, harsh breathing and the rumbling growls of a feeding beast. Lucius made a grumbling noise, biting onto a whip lash as his pace increased. Orion nearly whimpered, paler than pale due to blood loss. Numbness was beginning to flood his legs, prickling horribly, tearing him away from the haven inside himself where he could ignore this mistreatment of his body.

His mind swirled away… and suddenly Lucius was filling him, and in a rush of snarls, teeth were biting hard into his neck.

His mind went black. And then he was curled up, naked and cold on damp stone, huddling numbly into a ball.

The door swung shut with a dull, ancient thud. The creatures moved aimlessly in their dwellings. The crows screeched from the ventilation grate. Orion's mind dissolved into hatred, and he clamped fingers into his still bleeding wounds and cried.

'And there was nothing in that one either?' Harry asked, flicking hurriedly through his book of Uncommon Dragon Ailments.

'Dobby looked and looked,' Dobby was wringing his tea cosy. 'But there was nothing in any of the books about the dragons Harry Potter asked about.' Harry sighed, wrapping his jumper a little tighter around Silver.

'Are there any other books you could check?' He asked rapidly. 'Or bring to me, even. I can't just leave him here and-'

'Dobby and Winky have checked the Library, Harry Potter sir, and searched all the Professor's private bookcases.' Dobby whined. 'Dobby thinks he shall have to shut his hands in the oven for that…'

'No!' Harry snapped, before sighing. 'No. Dobby, you've done only what I asked… thank you.'

'If there's…'

'No Dobby…' Harry conjured a hot water bottle and some distinctly green 'bluebell flames'. 'I'll just do what I can. Could you bring me a cup of coffee, though?'

'Of course, Harry Potter, sir!' Dobby squealed almost in pleasure, and vanished with a pop. Harry leant on his knees, hands over his face, and groaned. Silver nickered from the table, and gently he looked up. The creature, bundled up in layer upon layer of Harry's old Weasley jumpers and his scarves, as well as being surrounded by a veritable armed force of hot water bottles, enchanted flames and what not, was still trembling with cold. To touch the skin was the brush against ancient, solid ice. His breathing wasn't laboured, but there was, from time to time, a soft, chilled sniffle, a puff of a sneeze or a rasp of chill. Harry didn't understand what could have happened, and how Silver could have plummeted this far into sickness so quickly. Just earlier he'd been chattering away in Transfigurations, causing a stir at dinner, and he was nothing if not lively in the bath. And now, within an hour, he was ice cold, shivering away, eyes liquid and meek, almost apologetic. Harry got up and walked to the window. Ron was outside with his class on the lawn, practising the proper techniques for dealing with Quidditch injuries. Hermione would be off studying god knows what, no doubt with Blaise Zabini (Harry could imagine Ron's rage at the mere mention of the other boys name, and it almost made him smile). He didn't want to risk moving Silver, when he was so weak, and who else within yelling at distance knew a thing about penndragonne welfare? Groaning, Harry slumped down the wall for a momentary sulk.

As Silver huddled closer into himself, he tried to ignore the rushing in his ears that seemed to get louder with every passing second, now rising to fever pitch. It was like the rush of wind as you fell helplessly from the sky, and the roar of the upcoming unforgiving ground, or the snarling of the tide, rushing at you in waves of cold, bitter, swirling malice.

Something, whatever it was, was rushing towards him from within, threatening to flood his already closed mind, and push the heat of the marks from him for good.

Something was coming back. Not arriving for the first time, but returning.

Silver felt his body tremble unnervingly. His claws unclenched, stretching wide, imploringly, as his body began to stiffen.

Harry groaned into his arms again, racking his brains for something, anything that could help. He got up with a start and looked out of the window. No smoke rose from Hagrid's hut, and the faint pink blur that was Professor Grubbly-Plank teaching a group of younger students.

'Damn good day to take a trip, Hagrid,' Harry snarled, before frowning. 'Professor Grubbly-Plank knows just as much… maybe…' He raked a hand through his hair. 'She'd be pretty angry about me interrupting her class… this is important!' With resolve, he spun around, and was about to snatch up Silver, accio his broom and zoom off across the grounds, when something stopped him.

Silver was sitting bolt upright, frozen, eyes huge and wide and glazed over. His wings were loosely unfurled, twitching a little.

'Silver?' Harry managed shakily. Silver seemed… somewhat larger than before, if he was slowly swelling.

'Oh god, he's going to pop,' Harry whimpered, frozen, before scurrying to the books for advice. 'Maybe he's going to do a phoenix and explode… oh please don't explooode.' Harry threw down the utterly useless book and dashed over to the table.

'Silver,' he mumbled. 'Tell me how I can help you… please…' Silver stared blankly back at him, mouth slightly open. His body was dark, but one point on his neck still remained pale.

'Silver…' Harry managed, kneeling down. Silver seemed lost somewhere else, as if enraptured by Siren song or lost in the unfathomable knowledge that this was the end.

'Silver…' Harry managed, one last time, watching eyes falling dark, as he cupped a hand to Silver's head, stroking his neck, thumb brushing over the pale spot.

All hell broke loose.

The blast threw Harry back over the top of the sofa and rolling across the dusty floor. Silver was throw with a crack into the wall next to fireplace. The sound was like unearthly screaming, howling of hot gales and the creak of huge, mighty gates being thrown open when they had been locked shut.

When Harry gathered himself enough to throw himself to his feet, he realised immediately that those lines were the cause of this. That he must have broken some sort of seal. That Silver was no normal penndragonne.

It was mere seconds later when he realised how right he was, and how stupid he had been. How he should have put two and two together. Why bloody Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were so interested in the tiny scrap of silver flesh. Why Lucius Malfoy never had any luck on any of his searches.

Next to the fire place, steam swirled away from a pale creature, spun gossamer falling in unruly, near angelic patterns over face and neck, torso barely clad in torn, shredded remains of a white school shirt, long, nimble fingers with broken nails biting into the wall like claws. Slender, long legs, splayed like forgotten art, were hung over with ruined, battered grey trousers, and the soles of the feet were ingrained with dirt. Delicate features, pixie-pointed, carved in alabaster, were deathly pale, shadowed in grey by falling, untamed hair, and dark lashes formed a soft curve on cheeks unmarred by a blush.

Harry stared for some time, trembling. Slowly, the boy opened his eyes and stared back at Harry, Silver-grey orbs sliding into focus, glinting in the light from the window.

Draco Malfoy's face moved slowly into a subtle, dreamy smile, head lolling a little.

'Ssssccchhhiii…' He said. Harry's eyes widened.

* * *

r+r! r+r!


	16. Chapter 16

Penndragonne

By Tashasaphi

Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I own the skill to bake killer cookies. I own a fridge which I set at 7 and turned into a freezer. I own a large quantity of Halloween candy. I do not, however, own two very beautiful (It's obvious, JK, stop trying to deny it) young men to lock in a cage with nothing but whipped cream, handcuffs and a cat-o-ninetails. Woe.

_Year 6 and all is not well at Hogwarts. After a devastating attack on the castle, the world is turned topsy turvy for the work-stressed Harry, and he finds a new light in a new companion…A story of love, friendship and abusing ones minions _

_WARNINGS: SLASH! _

_Also warnings... : This story is quite dark. I think black becomes me._

A/N

OMFAG AN ACTUAL NEW CHAPTER THAT HASN'T BEEN POSTED HERE BEFORE. O RLY? YA RLY! NO WAII!

Please keep reading guys. We're getting there. And we've hit 200 pages. Aren't we awesome?

If I get called pathetic enough it seems even in the face of flames (which I seem to get every few chapters) I will push something out. It feels as if I'm being defeated though. Meh.

The only reason you have a chapter at all is because of an email from LW (thank you… thank you so much) and Goblet of Fire the movie. LOVED IT. Probably the best adaptation by far out of the series so far. It got more than enough into it. And Patrick Doyle's done a great job with the music.

LOTS of plot bunnies in this chapter. You will have to read really carefully to find some of them.

Also, check out Cool and my other oneshots. They're all H/D.

From now on, every chapter will have at least some degree of smut in it. It's to make up for '15 chapters of drivel'. Yes I am going to keep quoting that fucking review until it GOES AWAY.

Grumble. Yes I did just swear. And Harry swears in this chapter, too. You should read my livejournal (my user name is tashasaphi) to see how much I usually swear… and for PD arts and the like.

I draw cute centaurs.

Oh, on a punctuation note: I use '' for speech marks instead of "" because my old computer's "" didn't work. And now it's habit. So please don't tell me off for it again. Also I've seen it used inb PUBLISHED NOVELS. So I think it's perfectly valid.

ON ONE FINAL NOTE. If you do not like any aspect of this fic, just close the window. Constructive, polite crit, fine. Soul crushing 'you've made Harry incompetent I hate you go die I'm not reading anymore good luck and have fun' aloof bullshit is NOT what I want or need.

Read my story and enjoy? Great. Review/email/livejournal me and tell me so.

Read my story and enjoy but find flaws? Great. Review me and tell me so. Point out those flaws, explain POLITELY why they are flaws and LEAVE AN EMAIL so I can get back to you, explain myself, and thank you.

However, Read my story, find flaws, and dislike or choose not to read any more? FINE. I don't want to know, because it inevitably upsets me as much as a proper flame would. More so, in fact. And I'm not going to listen to this crap anymore if you don't leave me an email address. AT ALL. James-chan does not have enough time on her hands to be picking up my pieces any more. JC – yes I do cause I LOVE YOU!

Read, and Enjoy.

Tsx

* * *

Harry was in deep, deep doggy doo doo.

Not only had he been harbouring (unknowingly, he hastened to add) Draco Malfoy, sensational missing person of the year, he had been keeping him as a PET. And now, instead of Malfoy leaping up, laughing the snuggles and baths off, making a snide comment about the size and/or quality of 'Potter's' appendages and sweeping off back to his harem in the Slytherin common room, he had mumbled for a few seconds, grinned like a loon (which, all things considering, was not that surprising) and had passed picturesquely out, sprawled next to the Gryffindor fireplace.

Great.

It had taken a good few minutes of stamping and screaming for Harry to realise that a) Malfoy was NOT going to wake up any time soon, b) that he was quite clearly alone in the tower, since no one had come to berate him for his unsightly outburst and c) that the clock was chiming, and in ten minutes this common room was going to be FLOODED by students bedecked in red and gold.

So, with a great deal of annoyance, Harry cast Mobilcorpus on the prone figure, succeeding in only smacking his limp body into the wall and then knocking over the coffee table. Groaning, Harry had conceded to lift Malfoy up (he was surprisingly light, yet heavy at the same time) and haul him up to the dormitory, where he flung him on the bed, tore the curtains shut around them both and glowered.

Why was it always him?

He really needed a hug right about now.

He missed Silver already.

'Mrii?'

Harry turned sharply at the noise, to see Malfoy slowly contort himself into an almost ball, one leg crossed over the other, arms flung over head and face, body curled into itself, and a pair of normally cold, sharp grey eyes peeking out from ruffled white blond cowlicks.

'Nice of you to wake up,' Harry snarled. The eyes, which were vaguely champagne and misty, blinked in a slow almost caricature reptilian fashion.

'Mmmmyyyyuuun,' he responded, his voice muffled by his limbs and tattered clothes, the soft click of sleep dampened lips parting punctuating his monosyllables.

'Care to explain what you're doing?' Harry asked firmly. He mentally cursed at how his voice betrayed his hurt. Malfoy shuffled his shoulders, snorting.

'Rah.'

'For Christ's sake, Malfoy!' Harry spat. 'I always knew you were a low life but... but this? Tricking me, tricking my friends? Your father's been here looking for you, the teachers have been worried sick! There's been stuff in the papers about Hogwarts incompetence and you've been having a laugh playing penndragonne, clawing my friend's faces off, and… ARGH!' Harry flopped back against his pillow in incoherent rage. 'You're a total dick, Malfoy. This is low even for you.' There was a shift of weight on the bed as he felt Malfoy sit up, slowly, bonily, as if he were a spider unfurling its legs. Harry turned his head away, blinking rapidly to force down a sudden surge of loss. There was a soft touch at his calf, and Harry sat up like a shot.

'What the bloo-' Harry gasped in rage, but paused. Malfoy was looking at him. Not through him. Not into him as if to try and tear him apart with his gaze. Not glaring, not trying to stare him out. Just looking. Serenely, quietly, peacefully gazing at him. His face was nearly blank, save for his eyes, which seemed to glisten with concern. Harry had never seen this look on Malfoy's face before. He'd seen hate, pride, pain, fear… but nothing sincere or gentle. It was quite a shock. It became somewhat more shocking when Malfoy's fingers bent and squeezed at the flesh of his leg.

'Get off me!' Harry spat, batting the other boy's hand away. Malfoy leapt back with a bark, landing on all fours, his toes and fingers biting into the bed for grip as he hunched his shoulders, hissing and quacking, bearing straight, white teeth, gnashing them and bobbing his head in animalistic rage. Against the alabaster of his skin, the thick black band of the collar was suddenly all too stark.

What. The. Hell.

It wasn't even possible, was it? Surely he just switched back, and then was Malfoy again, right?

Who was Harry trying to kid? Malfoy could act, that was a given, but Silver's latest slew of behaviour was entirely sincere.

And this creature, perched on the end of the bed, hair fluffed around his face, cheeks puffing in indignation and eyes welling with hurt confusion was NOT, in the slightest, Draco Malfoy.

'Who the fuck are you?' Harry breathed, awed. The Psuedo-Draco stared at him, still puffing, bottom lip trembling.

'Malfoy?' Harry called gently. There was not even a glint of recognition in those hazy eyes. Harry felt a quake run though his body.

He had to try.

'Si…' he swallowed the tremor from his voice. 'Silver?'

If Malfoy had had longer ears, Harry could have sworn they would have perked up. His brows lifted, his mouth relaxing into a sort of 'O' The clenching of his hands lessened, and though he was still tense, it wasn't the fearful, angry, hurt tenseness of a kicked dog, it was an alert, poised tenseness of something that had been called.

Called by its one name.

Crap.

'S-Silver?' Harry said more strongly this time.

'Myuu?' Harry almost winced at the noise. It was a penndragonne noise, but spoken by a tongue not skilled in reptilian tones.

'Yes,' he said softly, and weakly raised a hand, trembling. 'It's alright.'

'Ruuuuuuuuuuu ik!'

'You're going to fall off the bed, Silver,' Harry heard the hysteria in his voice before he felt it in his chest. It felt like his voice was unbreaking. Malfoy cocked his head, blinking at Harry, breath coming in shallow pants between his parted teeth.

'Unn?' He questioned almost dolefully. His face, his damnable face was making all those little expressions Harry had almost had to imagine on Silver's face, and he was doing them all so well. Malfoy's foot moved, and he hopped a fraction forward, the bed trembling.

'Myii?'

'That's better,' Harry sighed, clearing his throat, and feeling for the first time in a long time like a good long cry. 'Come and sit down quietly and let Harry think this through.' Malfoy clicked at him for speaking in the third person, and it terrified Harry that he'd been able to work that out. And in a sudden flash of movement, he had been bowled over backwards onto his pillows, and Draco Malfoy was curled, half on his side, between his legs, pressing him down onto the bed as he nuzzled into his chest.

'Malfoy!' Harry squawked in horror and sudden nuzzling in the vicinity of his left nipple. Malfoy ignored him, purring, deep throbbing noises which were tickly.

'Silver,' Harry growled, and Malfoy sat up like a shot, making that hurt face. Harry stared at him for some time, panting a little, more in horror than anything else. He groaned and flopped back into his pillows. Malfoy whimpered, before he blinked languidly, and slowly opened his mouth into a long, silent, eyelash fluttering yawn, which ended with another smack of those lips.

The students were in the common room below. Harry groaned.

'You need sleep,' he decided. 'And I need to think this through.' Malfoy eyed him warily, before slowly cracking a sweet, gentle smile, which flooded his eyes with warmth. Harry sighed, shutting his eyes and dropping an arm over them. He waved his wand at the curtains, hearing the telltale snap of the magic locking them shut. He felt, resignedly, trying to be shocked or repulsed by the strangeness and the sameness, balled hands pad like paws up his sternum, before the long drawn out happy sigh and Malfoy settled onto Harry's chest, pressing their bodies together like the pages of some illicit book. Harry lay there for some time, the murmuring chatter of the common room below like a lulling drone. His mind was a mess of emotions and hormones and memories and truths, and the slow, rhythmic, relaxing fanning on Malfoy's breaths through his shirt was not helping this matter. He had never had someone honestly find true, honest comfort in him before, and that itself was highly relaxing. Before he knew what was happening, his arm has slipped off his eyes and behind his head, and the other was gently petting Silver's head as they both drifted in the soft haven of sleep.

'… he's gone…'

The room was flooded with the light of the dying sun, cackling crows casting vicious shadows across the moulding floor. Aquilla spun on his heel, bathed in the amber light which blistered on his cheeks.

'He's gone!' he shouted, his voice echoing in the darkness with the weight of his words. Trembling, Aquilla eyed his master, breaths heaving in his chest, his veins pumping with fresh, inhuman blood. Lucius was examining his nails through dark gloves. Aquilla snarled.

'He's run away!'

'Wouldn't you, Aquilla?' Lucius answered suddenly, cuttingly. He turned, grey eyes cold. 'If I had done this to you, if you knew you deserved it, I think you too would have torn this cell apart and found somewhere else to dwell.' Aquilla hissed nastily, kicking something over in a burst of brutish wrath.

'He won't come back, Lucius,' he hissed.

'Not for a while at least,' Lucius pondered. 'He'll go to ground, lick his wounds and the like.' Aquilla raked his hands through his hair, groaning.

'I shouldn't have listened to you,' he growled. 'I never should have listened to you!'

'Boy, I own you!' Lucius shot back, his wand raised. He was a little alarmed to see Aquilla had raised his own. 'Put that away.'

'I'm going to go and find him,' Aquilla hissed, eyes wide, mad. 'I'll find and I'll bring him back… keep him safe.'

'You will ignore his ridiculous powers and you will do as you are told!'

'No!' Aquilla gasped, sparks sprinkling from his wand tip. Lucius' lip curled as Aquilla choked, gasped, open mouth revealing long, fierce teeth, hooked and sharp.

'His blood is in you,' Lucius hissed, 'it will make the spell worse.'

'The spell you MADE him put on me, you bastard!' Aquilla snarled. His wand hand trembled. Lucius watched it carefully.

'Put down your wand, you ungrateful brat!' Lucius snarled. Aquilla choked as if in pain, tears burning on his cheeks as the moon rose.

'You'll only hurt me if I do,' he cried. 'You always do!' He choked on a tortured sob. 'A dog for you to kick! That's all we've become, even him! No wonder Draco's running from you!' Lucius froze.

'Don't antagonise me, boy.' His voice was slow and cold. 'You cannot even begin to comprehend what it is that I am doing. When you can, THEN you may second guess me, but until that day-'

'Your son is snivelling away in some pit at Hogwarts, your most powerful asset has fled for his life and you, though you would call yourself a new Dark Lord, lie here, imprisoned and cowering-'

'Crucio.' Aquilla's wand fell from his hand as he contorted, in and out of swirling blackness, inhuman screams bellowing into the dawning night. Lucius clutched his wrist in agony as the limiter clasped down hard, pressing into his veins. He staggered back, panting, as Aquilla lay in a trembling heap on the floor. Sighing, he leant against a pillar.

'Aquilla,' he whispered, softly, almost lovingly. 'You serve me… do not forget that.' Slowly, painfully, the suddenly small body of the boy vampire curled into a tiny, fragile ball. Lucius pushed the tendrils of his hair from his face. 'And do not forget that, therefore, you are below me in class, and you should do what you are told, lest you should incite my wrath. Do you understand?' A ripple of a bitter laugh moved along Aquilla's hunched spine.

'Does that make me a servant to the second Dark Lord, then?' he asked drily. 'A Pseudo Death Eater? What ARE you planning on calling your minions, anyway?'

'Don't talk about things you don't understand!' Lucius spat, pushing himself to his feet and sweeping across the room. There was a brief silence. 'Orion will have returned to Hogwarts. You heard him, he has eyes there, and he will want to check on them. It's a place where, for now, no one can touch him. You needn't waste your pity upon him.' Lucius frowned. 'Sometimes extreme measures are necessary to train the wilder beasts of this world.' Aquilla snorted bitterly.

'I will not suffer this attitude, Aquilla!' Lucius snapped. 'Do not antagonise me further. Get up! We have a dinner in an hour.' Aquilla failed to move. 'Aquilla!' Slowly, Aquilla rolled onto his knees, before sitting back on his heels and gazing up through the broken ceiling to the sky, where stars were beginning to gleam in the post day light. Constellations mapped the sky. A swooping eagle soared above him, a mirage of invisibly joined dots, and the powerful quadrangle of Orion glinted around the three-point belt. A slow, lazy smirk reached along bloodlines and flooded Aquilla's face.

'I'm coming,' he said softly, teeth glinting in the moonlight. 'After all, us Malfoys are never late for a formal occasion, are we?'

The sun had long ince gone down when Harry awoke. He felt cozy, warm and content, as if he was waking in a loving embrace he had known only in faint Hallmark Card cliché dreams. And the he remembered the thing with Malfoy.

And then he realised he wasn't being lain on anymore.

He sat up with us much of a jolt as his sleepy bones could muster, blinking blearily and frowing, only to find spidery Malfoy (he really was all long slim limbs and fluffy hair when you broke him down) contorted at the other end of the bed. From the swirl of the blanket around him, Harry surmised that Malfoy-Silver had spent a great deal of time building his nest, and that he was down for the night.

Phew.

Now what to do?

Slowly, meekly, Harry emerged from his curtains, and frantically placed every locking, sealing, closing and stagnating charm he knew on his curtains, just for good measure. He did not need a half-naked, spazzed out missing-person wandering around the Gryffindor Common Room answering to the name Silver and lynching anyone and everyone of their hard earned coffee.

'Hiding something?' said a familiar, yet augmented voice. Harry turned sharply to see Ryan sitting on his bed, pulling a bandage tight on his knee with his tooth. He looked… awful.

'Ryan,' Harry managed. 'You… Are you alright?' He frowned. 'You're really pale.'

'Just tired,' he said emptily. 'I…' He paused with a hefty, exhausted sigh, almost as if he really couldn't be bothered thinking anymore. He screwed up his forehead a little before turning back to Harry with a sudden fake smile. 'I had a nasty reaction to something in remedial potions.' He smiled. 'Nasty business with a stray rat, some shattered potion vials and whatever was in that unwashed cauldron.'

'Nice...' Harry mused, wincing in sympathy. 'Are you alright now?'

'Madame Pomfrey was very understanding,' he said slowly. Harry noticed now that his eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, his skin near translucent and clammy, and his hands were shaking as he tied the knot on his bandages.

'You… you're not looking so good,' Harry noted, walking over to the bed. 'Would you like me to go and get her again?' He went to put his hand on the other boys shoulder.

'No!' Ryan spat, jumping suddenly back from Harry's touch. He curled up a little, and Harry noticed how much he was sweating.

'No,' he repeated. 'I just need to take a shower and get some rest, Harry. Please don't worry yourself.'

'Alright,' Harry finally agreed. 'I'll leave you to that.'

'Thank you.'

'Look… feel better, okay!' Harry called as he left the room, the door closing neatly behind him. 'I'll check back after dinner if I don't see you!' And his muffled voice faded with the slap of his shoes on the heavy stone steps. Ryan, sweating with exertion, gave up on projecting his false image quickly, his true body collapsing in a naked, trembling, blood-caked heap on the bedsheets. Slowly, breath rasping on his dry lips he sat up, staring at the guarded curtains on Harry's bed.

'I'll worry about you later,' he snarled, having the presence of mind to draw and lock his curtains before passing picturesquely out, back throbbing where his tired wings ached.

'Is something the matter, Potter?'

'No, Professor,' Harry managed weakly, before forcing a smile. 'I haven't been sleeping well.'

'I find cocoa always helps,' Professor Flitwick suggested. 'Though, if it persists, go and see Madame Pomfrey about a sleeping draft. We can't have our students becoming insomniacs, now, can we?'

'No sir,' Harry smiled wanly, before leaving the classroom with a muttered thank you. Three days had passed. Ryan was having time off school due to fainting spells, and it worried Harry that both he and the Malfoy/Silver were up in that dormitory all day together. Ryan was continually, playfully curious about what was behind the curtains, but Harry informed him frequently, vehemently, that it was an experimental Christmas present and if anyone peeked it would be wasted.

He wasn't quite sure why he hadn't told anyone yet. It didn't make sense to him at all. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to tell anyone.

Malfoy might have hated him, but this strange animal personality 'Silver' didn't. He had warmed to Harry, found sanctuary in him, and Harry was not about to give that up.

It was ridiculous, but the pang of loss he had felt since losing Hedwig in that attack seemed bearable when Silver was there. Even when the Silver in question had tousled blonde hair and the expression of an angel painted on a sinner's face.

The scratching and the biting and the fighting made so much sense now, Harry thought as he ascended the two flights to the common room. Malfoy had not only been disgraced- Harry had pretty much saved his wretched little life after all- but he had been stuck without back up or means of escape. He had retaliated like a viper backed into a corner; frightened, alone and desperate.

It was now obvious why the Penndragonne had gone missing at Malfoy manor… or was it? Granted, it would have been easy for Malfoy to hide in his own home… but why hadn't Malfoy just gone home with Lucius the day he had vanished? The day Hermione had found Silver. Who had gotten to him at Malfoy Manor before Ryan found him? Why hadn't he revealed himself sooner? What was this 'Silver' personality he seemed to have adopted? Harry's head was a buzz of questions and worries.

He got a whole new one when he visited Malfoy in the dormitory.

Malfoy/Silver was blinking at him dolefully, lying, curled, with his nose to Harry's wash bag like a puppy with a leash. The last button has fallen off the shreds of his shirt, and it was hanging off one of his shoulders and he snuggled next to the bag, mumbling.

'Bath,' Harry translated, sitting cross legged next to his pillows. 'Right.' Malfoy/Silver sat up, eyes glinting happily, a soft hum on his lips. Harry frowned.

'You can bathe yourself though, right?' he enquired. 'You may be crazy and think you're a penndragonne and stuff but… you remember how to wash, right?' Malfoy blinked at him, pursing his lips.

'Wakk!' he suddenly boomed. Harry was very, very glad for his silencio charm just then.

'I'm not bathing you, Malfoy.'

'Oooooouuu?'

'No, really. Not funny.'

'Schhhhiiiiiii!'

'Oh my god, Malfoy, we've had baths together.'

'Roo.'

'Oh my god…'

'Ruuuuoooh?'

'Malfoy, you've seen me naked. That's just wrong and weird.'

'Nyah.'

'That's like Pansy Parkinson seeing me naked. Or Millicent Bullstrode. Or someone equally… slytherin.'

'Ieh.'

'Urgh… if you start spreading false slander about my manbits round the school, you're a dead dragon.'

'Woo…'

'…'

'….i.'

'You have no idea what I'm going on about, do you?'

'Waaaaaaa!' Malfoy/Silver suddenly squawked, batting the bag of washkit at Harry. He pouted impatiently. Harry frowned.

'Fine. But I'm staying dressed. And you're keeping the trousers on, no matter what!'

The Common Room was nearly empty when Harry left, under a silencing charm and bundled in his invisibility cloak with a very wriggly tactile blonde. The portrait hole slammed shut and Hermione, who sat, tense in her arm chair, looked up briefly. Across from her sat her tormentor, reading a book on Numerology peacefully.

'Funny how the draft from tightly closed windows can make doors bang in this castle,' he commented drily, before raising his eyes to her. She yelped, as if scalded.

'Call the other one,' he commanded. She folded her book shut stiffly, before rising and painfully walking to the staircase.

'G-Ginny?' She called, swallowing hard and pressing her eyes shut to quash terrified tears. There was a long pause, with nothing but the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the muted yelling and whooping from deep within the castle as Duelling club kicked off.

'Hermione?' A muffled voice from upstairs. 'Are you alright?'

'Come down!' Hermione called shakily, before Ryan beckoned her back to the chairs.

'Hermione?' Ginny asked as she reached the bottom stop, before freezing up.

'Come here and sit down,' Ryan ordered. Ginny flushed, but didn't move. Ryan turned his head to her, frowning, and she whimpered, hurrying to sit by Hermione on the chair, clutching at her. Ryan sighed, looking around calmly.

'Was there anyone upstairs?' he asked. Ginny shook her head honestly. He turned his gaze to Hermione. 'Lock the Portrait.'

'I can't do that,' she mumbled.

'Do it now,' he snapped, a sweat breaking on his forehead. Hermione raised her wand, casting a complicated mix of spells. Ryan sighed, putting down his book.

'I suppose I don't have to bother wasting my energy projecting a desired image for you two,' he pondered, before weakening his power of suggestion. It revealed Orion, the scarlet eyed white creature, more drawn and pale than ever. He was weak, panting a little from exertion, clearly unwell and exhausted.

'I'll be brief,' he hissed. 'You're going to answer my questions. And then I'm going to give you an order. And you're going to do it. Understand?' Ginny nodded sceptically. Hermione frowned.

'What if I say no?' she asked shakily. Orion cocked an eyebrow.

'If you say no,' he said slowly, 'or in any way provoke me, girl, I will lay you down somewhere public and humiliate you, whilst gorging on the still bleeding flesh of your classmates.' He shrugged. 'And then I'll eat your cat and feed you its eyeballs.' He smiled sweetly. 'Are you going to say no?' Hermione didn't speak for turning green with nausea. Orion smirked.

'Heck, the meat would do me good. I guess we have an accord, then?' Ginny trembled.

'You've been bitten,' she mumbled. Orion glared at her. Hermione smirked.

'By a vampire, no less,' she hissed. 'No wonder you're feeling sick.' Orion snarled, and the girls jumped.

'Remember what happened to Durmstrang?' He snapped, eyes whirling. 'It can happen here too. Everyone dead, in a pool of their own boiled blood and passion.'

'You're not strong enough,' she challenged. Orion rolled his eyes.

'You know, I think I'm going to eat that red headed twit just for the sheer fun of it after this…'

'Not Ron!' Ginny squeaked. Orion focused his energy, and the girls fell back against the chair, panting, flushed and tearful.

'What is Harry Potter hiding behind the curtains in his room?' he demanded. Hermione glared.

'You sleep in his room,' she pondered.

'Answer the question!'

'I don't know,' Ginny mumbled. 'He said to Ron it was a Christmas present.' Sweating, Orion intensified his gaze, and Ginny cried out. Hermione trembled.

'I haven't seen Silver recently,' she said in a rush. 'Maybe… maybe he's acting up, or he's sick or something's happened to him and…' Orion was eyeing her carefully.

'And what?' he asked gently. Hermione sobbed.

'I don't know,' she mumbled. 'Maybe he needs isolation or something.'

'So you think the thing behind the curtains is the penndragonne?' Orion asked. Hermione, after a pause, nodded.

'It would explain why he's been absent from Harry's daily life, yes.' Orion frowned and pondered for a while.

'What do you know about Draco Malfoy?'

Harry had taken the Malfoy/Silver to the normal bathroom. The Prefect's bathroom had a bath in it, and Silver liked baths a lot. He had absolutely no intention of letting the Malfoy/Silver near a bath. Cuddling, he remembered, happened in baths. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that right now, and he was trying not to think about it. So, they went to the Sixth Year bathrooms on the fourth floor, where there were only showers. Showers were safe. It was like hosing down a horse: you could do it from a distance, without touching, and some level of cleanliness could be achieved. Of course, it wasn't like scrubbing down, that intimate forceful contact that really achieved longlasting freshness, but Harry did not, EVER, want to scrub down Draco Malfoy. Heck, blasting him with a hose FOR HIS OWN GOOD rather than as a punishment or a torment wasn't exactly desirable either. But if he handed Malfoy in, he handed in Silver, and yes, he'd get bathed and fed and looked after, but Harry would lose that intimate friendship he'd developed.

That, and he could imagine the look in Silver's eyes if Harry did, and it haunted him.

Wait, not Silver. Malfoy. Malfoy/Silver.

Why was his life always so complicated?

'Sit down,' Harry commanded, casting a few spells around the cubicle he had chosen. He heard a thump and fumbled for the invisibility cloak. Malfoy reappeared, looking vaguely irritable, but flushed, ruffled, cute.

'Take of your shirt, and I'll sort out the soap,' Harry commanded. He rummaged through the nozzles on the wall until he found ones he knew from memory were the ones Malfoy used at home. When he turned back, Malfoy was crouched over the drain hole, hunched, snarling.

'Stop that and come over here,' Harry groaned. 'I haven't got all day.' Malfoy did not desist, cocking his head and barking. Harry thanked the lord for silencing charms.

'Ma… Silver!'

'Mrii?'

'Here, please.' The Malfoy/Silver snorted, pursing prim lips, before glowering one last time down the drain and skulking in a sort of predatorily crawl towards Harry. Harry tugged the water hose down, rubbing a blob of soapy shampoo into the tangled, mat-threatened locks rather violently. Malfoy grumbled at the rough treatment, but he sat quite still, having now learnt that soap meant bath, and bath meant clean, and clean was nice and warm.

He was not prepared for the blast of hot water violently spurting straight down on his scalp when Harry turned on the nozzle.

He sprung back with a yelp, babbling away, before Harry flicked his wrist and caught the other boy straight in the mouth. Malfoy howled miserably as Harry hosed him off with the intense water, aiming it mainly at his head, though a little at his torso. The remains of the school shirt which Malfoy had not removed were wet through, pressing illicitly to skin and raised skin-dark bumps in the air chill when Harry turned the water off. Harry considered this hunched, tortured figure which mumbled and grumbled to itself and shook his head. Malfoy pressed himself into a corner when Harry dumped more shampoo into his grey-soaked locks before slapping lather roughly onto his body.

'Rub,' Harry demanded. Malfoy scowled, before shrieking into a jet of well aimed water.

It took some forty minutes of rolling and splashing and flicking of soap for Malfoy to even resemble clean. It took a further twenty to persuade him out of the safe corner of the cubicle and under the invisibility cloak. It was moments like this when Harry wondered why on earth he really bothered. Then someone was pressing at his side under the cloak, nuzzling into him and murmuring purred thanks, and everything made sense again.

'You're late.'

'I can hardly move,' Orion snarled, panting where he sat. 'And I had to fly all the way here.' He narrowed his eyes. 'I can't believe you take such poor care of your star new assistant.' There was a chuckle from the dark throne.

'What would you have had me do?' the slimy high voice asked. 'Send you a coach and four? Your integration in the school is a secret one, and I offer no such luxuries to any other in my servitude.' Orion snorted.

'No other is so valuable to you,' he shot back. 'No other has such deep connections in the two places you need to be.'

'I am not a patient person, Orion.' Red eyes narrowed. 'Report immediately. I grow tired of your whining.' Orion growled, before hugging his knees in his place on the floor.

'Lucius grows anxious for the boy. He believes he has secreted himself into the chamber of secrets, and lurks there indefinitely. Of course, Dumbledore and the ministry will never give him permission to search, and he will not give consent to a search for his so unless he is present. It will keep him occupied for some time, and distracted from more important things.'

'Such as?'

'Such as his big rebellion. Such as what's happening in the thick of Hogwarts. Such as where his son is.'

'And where is he?' the voice was lulling, suggestive. 'He would make an excellent bartering chip, were he to be taken.' Orion cocked an eyebrow.

'I have his location covered by two of my spies, my Lord.' He smiled. 'The boy is finally rebelling back against the restrictions I have pushed upon him. I fear his mind will return to him all but fully within the week.' Orion smiled. 'If all goes to plan tonight, my lord, you will have him immediately.'

'And if all doesn't go well?' Orion narrowed his eyes.

'Then I will take him myself, my Lord. Although I cannot guarantee whether or not he will reach your hands alive if this is the case.'

'Your wrath is intoxicating, Orion,' Voldemort sneered. Orion frowned.

'I have endured much in my time,' he muttered, voice as gravel. 'And I will have my reward, no matter how much blood I have to spill in the process.' He stood, suddenly. 'If there is anything else you desire, you have only to contact me.'

'Of course, Orion. Your contributions are greatly welcomed.'

Malfoy, or was it Silver, was sitting inelegantly at the far end of Harry's bed, wearing a pair of old pajamas Harry had inherited from Dudley. They fitted Draco even less well, with the enormous top hanging off his neck, letting the twilight shadows dance dirty magic in grey down his throat and chest, and the trousers sliding low and lopsided on his hips, as if he were swathed in illicit cloud, rather than cheap immense flannel. Harry, grumbling the whole time, had towelled his hair and some of his body dry, after peeling off the tattered shirt remains. Said hair was drying, sort of fluffy, around his ears, curling a little around his ears and in the still wet brassy bits, almost straight in others. Harry had forced him, with a great deal of wriggling, into the trousers, before pulling the draw string as tight as it would go. Malfoy's underwear had been soaked, and Harry, blushing furiously, needed to see no more of that. Somewhere between drying him and putting on the huge top, Harry had found himself preoccupied with the skin on Malfoy's left forearm. White, crisply white, yet soft like all skin is, and smooth like aristocracy, it was like marble, yet warm and vaguely throbbing, and blushed with blue watercolours where his veins ran silently beneath the flesh. Harry found his fingers trailing from the wrist to the elbow, seeking something when there was nothing there. Draco had never been marked. Harry couldn't even see the marker points he had seen on Zabini's arm. The flawless skin was uniformly smooth and pale, not marred by that ugly goblin that Voldemort chose to brand his cattle with. Realising he had been distracted for quite a while, Harry had looked up to find Malfoy staring at him calmly, his head cocked to one side a little. His eyes were almost clear, looking straight into Harry's, honest, unabashed, telling him in plain mind words that he was clean. He was untouched. He was not with Him.

Falling asleep had been much easier after that, despite the occasional throbbing from remembering that fresh warm skin, and twitches that excited him and terrified him. As he dozed off, he had felt Malfoy cuddle around his feet, and felt that same soft completeness as when he had dozed off with Silver asleep on his pillow.

He was not expecting a shaft of white moonlight to the face as his curtains were ripped back.

'Mur?' he managed, covered his eyes in pain and blinking rapidly to clear the sleepy tears. Slowly, his vision came to, and a girl was standing on either side of his bed. It took quite some time to realise that it was Ginny and Hermione, and he was not having THAT dream again.

''Mione?' He asked sleepily. 'What are you two doing here?' Neither girl replied as they stared blankly forward, trembling with some kind of inner exertion, sweat trickling down the sides of their faces and beading on their brows. They were flushed, as if feverish, but their eyes suspiciously misted.

'Ginny?' Harry asked the other girl, whose fringe had become matted to her forehead. She shook a little more. He heard Hermione's breath hitch on his other side, and turned back to her, to see tears brimming. He sat up, before spotting Malfoy, still asleep, curled up in the shadow of the curtains. He felt his wand roll from under his pillow and tap against his thigh.

'What's going on?' he asked cautiously, very aware of that sleeping bundle he saw as Silver, innocently dozing, completely unaware.

'…rry' Hermione mumbled, before raising her hand. Ginny did the same. Harry eyes boggled.

'What the-'

He was cut off by the slice of metal in the air as their shimmering blades ploughed down into the mattress. He squirmed out of the way just in time. Blindly, eyes glazed, the girls removed the knives, clearly stolen from the kitchen, and raised them high above their heads.

'What are you doing!' Harry cried desperately, before the assailants attacked again.

* * *

PS – my beta is sexy and amazing and I love her. -- THE TROOTH

R+R PLEASE


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